


That Could Be Us

by captainpinkoreos



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mates, Pack Dynamics, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainpinkoreos/pseuds/captainpinkoreos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since that time Derek and Stiles spent a night together. Stiles thought they had something, he was so sure of it, but Derek began to drift away from him and towards the pack's old high school English teacher, Jennifer Blake. Stiles will do anything for an explanation of the relationship between him and Derek, but when the pack finds a baby in the preserve and Stiles volunteers to care for the baby, he and Derek are forced to confront the nature of their relationship and how Jennifer Blake found her way between them.</p><p>Or:<br/>The pack finds a baby, the baby forces Derek and Stiles to talk about their angsty past, and it's all Jennifer Blake's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_It’s been two years, I’ll do anything for him to take me back, I just want to be with him again—_

 

~

 

All things considered, Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised.

Of course, murderous alphas, kanimas, geriatric psychopaths, that troll thing they’d just spotted were all pretty scary—note, anything with the ability to murder in cold blood was fucking _terrifying_ —but the real terror?

_Responsibility._

The little toddler had this HUGE pout on his face, probably foreshadowing the major breakdown that was about to—

Yup. That would be the screams of a very confused, very upset toddler. Derek visibly flinched and took a step back.

“So, uh, aren’t you supposed to know what to do? Like, obviously, you turned a bunch of teenagers into werewolves, so I’m assuming you have at least some knowledge of how to take care of babies? I mean, not that we were babies, but you seemed pretty okay with being responsible for a bunch of hormonal, emotionally unstable—“

“Hey!” Scott protested.

“—teenagers. And toddlers are more simplistic than teenagers, right?”

_Stop talking, stop talking, can’t you see he doesn’t like it when you talk? That’s why he left, that’s why you never had a chance—_

The baby was still screaming, his face gradually turning a rather surprising shade of crimson. In between his screams, he took brief moments to survey the pack surrounding him and, when he saw that none of them were going to do anything but stare, resumed screaming. Now with drool and snot everywhere.

Great.

Stiles cautiously took a step forward as Erica and Boyd mimicked their Alpha’s retreat. Isaac remained unwaveringly at Scott’s side as Stiles extended a finger and poked at the baby’s cheek.

As if a switch had been flipped, the toddler’s face froze and everything was silent. The werewolves were frozen, too, scared to trigger the screaming. And of course Stiles had to poke around some more.

“Uh, hey, little buddy. Little guy? Yikes, I should stop calling you little, or else you’ll get a complex, huh? Whatcha doin’ here? In the middle of the woods? Where’s your mommy?” Stiles rambled, slowly inching closer to the toddler.

Who then decided that Stiles’s finger looked like a French fry, or whatever babies ate, and proceeded to gnaw at the finger that was poking his cheek.

“Okay…not cool. Anyone else wanna help me here?” Stiles moved to stand up, but the rest of the pack moved together to stop him.

“Hey, stop that, or he’ll keep screaming. Just pick him up, or something,” Erica suggested, plucking the baby up and pushing him into Stiles’s arms.  
The ensuing struggle to keep the baby upright and in his arms was embarrassing and should never be spoken of again. Ever.

“We should take him back to the Derek’s. It’s getting dark, and we haven’t seen anyone else around here,” Stiles pointed out. “We can check in with my dad tomorrow morning and see if anyone’s lost a kid or something.”

“Dude, he’s someone’s kid, not a puppy or kitten that we can just put up signs for. And if he’s wandered so far into the woods, so close to where that troll just ripped up that raccoon, someone’s gotta be out of their mind looking for him,” Scott replied as Stiles resumed shifting the toddler around into a more comfortable position.

“Well, yeah, but if we stay here, _we’re_ gonna get eaten by the carnivorous troll that just attacked that raccoon. So, like, let’s move. Preferably before it gets any darker.”

Derek, who had been silent the whole time, shifted closer to Stiles.

_Oh my god, he’s right next to me and he’s leaning in closer, makehimstopmakehimstopmake—_

“He’s a werewolf. There’s another ‘wolf on the territory.”

And then Derek turned around and stalked towards the Camaro, his pack following. Scott and Stiles shared a look before bounding after them, baby in tow.

 

~

 

“Definitely a werewolf. Beta. I don’t think he’s a part of any pack, though, considering how unsocialized he is. Every child is different, but I guess he’s around 18 months old, but he’s not socialized very well,” Deaton pointed out.

Overnight, the toddler—whose name and origin were still unknown—hadn’t been able to sleep at all. He kept Stiles, Scott, and Derek’s little trio up. (Derek had gone to bed. The Alpha had rolled his eyes at Stiles and Scott after they all squeezed uncomfortably in the back of the Camaro, with Boyd riding shotgun. As soon as they entered the newly remodeled Hale house, though, Derek had gone straight to his bedroom, only to emerge in the morning looking refreshed and well-rested. The _bastard_.)

Currently, though, the toddler was sitting on an examination table in the very very back of Deaton’s office, sucking on his thumb and pouting again. He had given Deaton one look and immediately turned away, choosing instead to stare at the blank wall to his right.

“Uh, but he’s healthy? Like, physically? And probably a late bloomer, huh? Why does he keep looking at the wall? There’s nothing there?” Stiles rambled, not quite looking straight at Deaton. The little boy’s face was scrunched up, his eyes not focused on anything in particular.

“He appears to be quite taken with the chihuahua in the next room.”

As if on cue, Scott stumbled into the room with the chihuahua in hand. For all the awesome reflexes he’d gained with the bite, Scott still had absolutely no grace whatsoever. Stiles was kind of worried for the dog.

The toddler let out a little squeal and nearly brained himself trying to reach for the chihuahua.

“No, no! We don’t even know if he’s sick!” Stiles half-held the boy in his arms as Deaton chuckled and motioned for Scott to bring the chihuahua closer.

“Nah, this lady’s all good. She’s vaccinated and ready for adoption!” Scott exclaimed proudly.

“Oh, uh, cool! I guess we can let—? Yeah, okay, I’ll just hold onto them both,” Stiles finally huffed in defeat.

As the toddler and the chihuahua messed around on the examination table, Scott turned to Stiles to talk about the baby.

“So, what’s the little guy’s name? Does he have a pack?”

“No name, no pack. It’s like he kinda just fell out of the sky and right into the preserve, kinda weird. I can’t really think of a way to find his parents, or whatever,” Stiles replied. “So I was thinking that maybe we could keep him? I mean, from what you’ve told me about the neighboring packs, having children in the pack is really important. It might help us get some allies, maybe negotiate some treaties or whatever, if we temporarily keep him?”

“But his pack—“

“He doesn’t have one. Didn’t you see how Derek reacted to him? He’s an omega! You wouldn’t let a poor little baby become an omega, would you, Scotty?”

Tugging the baby to face Scott, Stiles pulled his best pouting face. The toddler and the chihuahua both seemed to think it was hilarious because then there were three sets of puppy-dog eyes facing Scott.

“Well, maybe just until we find out more about where he came from. And he needs a name. And since you’re so…adamant…about keeping him, you’ll take care of him,” Scott answered hesitantly.

“Yay! We can come up with a name after lunch, with the rest of the pack there! Isn’t that right, little munchkin?” Stiles patted the toddler on the head, to which the toddler responded by sneezing right into Stiles’s face.

Well, at least the kid was responding to him. Somewhat.

 

~

 

The Hale house was a college project for the pack. After Lydia left for MIT and Allison left for France, Scott had realized how much he didn’t know about his new pack, so he’d decided that rebuilding the Hale house from its charred skeleton would be the best team-building exercise. Of course, he hadn’t consulted with Derek first, so it had ended up being a surprise late birthday/late Christmas/late New Year’s present the year before everyone graduated from college.

Derek hadn’t taken being left out of his own pack projects very well, so there was a huge blowout fight between Derek and Scott which lasted for an entire semester. After Derek had swallowed his pride and let Scott explain, though, they were slowly starting over, with Scott as an ambassador-like figure in the pack. It wasn’t too bad: Scott was charismatic and adorable as all hell, so their surrounding packs genuinely seemed to like the new Hale pack.

“He kind of looks like an Oliver to me. Olly, Olly, Oliver. Look at those cheeks,” Erica said between soft little pecks on the toddler’s cheeks. Of course, the toddler (Oliver now? No…) looked like he was ready for a nap after nibbling on his Cheerios.

The toddler had thought Erica’s wavy blonde hair was _beautiful_ , so he had crawled to her right after his meal and demanded a seat on her lap. As he sat there, drifting off, he twirled his fingers delicately in her hair, almost in awe of the texture, while Erica cuddled with him between taking bites of her sandwich.

“Or we could call him Jacob?” Stiles asked jokingly.

Isaac snorted as Boyd pulled a face of mock disgust. Scott didn’t seem to get the Twilight reference.

“Or not. Honestly, he kinda looks like my cousin. Michael,” Boyd suggested. Now that the pack was more stable and close, Boyd had finally warmed up enough to Scott and Stiles to joke with them. Sometimes he was even a snarky motherfucker, if he was having a good day.

“But he’s his own person now!”

“Parents name their kids after people all the time,” Scott refuted, defending Boyd.

“Yeah, well, not just because they look like someone. Let’s call him something new. Anthony? Maybe Tony for short?” Stiles hinted. Okay, so maybe he was still fanboy-squealing over the Avengers movie. Sue him. It was a kickass movie.

Apparently, no one had any problems with naming the baby after a genius engineer with PTSD, so Stiles just let it settle for a while.

“Tony. Tony sounds okay,” Erica agreed.

“Okay for what?”

Turning around briskly, Stiles saw that Peter had entered their little breakfast nook area. He didn’t sit down and join them, which was a small relief.

After his resurrection, Peter still wasn’t quite recovered yet. Sure, no one wanted to be left alone with him, but they could tolerate him on good days. Sometimes, he even gave good advice (emphasis on sometimes).

“For the baby. Who needs to be put down for a nap,” Stiles said, grabbing the newly named Tony from Erica and hightailing it out of the eating area.

Only to be stopped by Derek and (oh, gross) Ms. Blake, who were whispering quietly to each other, blocking the doorway. Well, not stopped. More like distracted. Ms. Blake was probably on her lunch break, and she was basically living in the Hale house now.

_Oh, god, still can’t believe they’re together even though it’s been two years, I had him first, he was mine first, what the hell happened, why do I do this every single time—_

Clearing his throat, Stiles kept his head straight and marched (well, more like tiptoed so Tony wouldn’t start fussing) out the door and to his Jeep. He didn’t look back.

Time to google how to care for a toddler.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first fanfiction, so sorry for any typos! It's unbeta-ed. But I really hope you guys like it! I've got the plot and a few ideas ready, but I'm open to any suggestions you might have! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia calls, the baby stops fussing, and Peter is Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! They were very much appreciated! This is still unbeta-ed, so please tell me if something sounds a little wonky. Hope you guys like it!

"Look, Lydia, no one thought—. Well, yeah, we named him—. Tony. Yeah, like Tony Stark! ...Well, Deaton did give me this stuff to add to the baby food because. Yeah, apparently, werewolves have higher metabolism? So it's a really weird, special, magic-mojo thingy," Stiles huffed into the phone clamped between his shoulder and ear as he shuffled the baby on his lap, typing furiously on a baby forum.

Sometimes, usually at least once a week, Lydia called from MIT to check up on him. Ms. Blake had literally scared Lydia into running away from Beacon Hills, the final push she needed to graduate early and get a head start on her research. So now, a few years down the line, Lydia was thriving in the world of research and mathematics, almost out of grad school while everyone else in the pack had just graduated from undergrad. No one in the pack really questioned it, though: Lydia was smart, Lydia was beautiful, Lydia was  _going places_. And not before learning about the sticky situation between Stiles and Derek. Which, hey, let's add "Lydia is perceptive" to the list, too. 

"And how's Derek reacting to him? Anything? I would imagine that since you guys are mates, he would have ditched the Blake and gone back to you, especially now that you're the primary caretaker for a baby, in _his_ pack and on _his_ territory," Lydia contemplated in that usual, calculating tone.

"We're not  _mates_ , it was probably just the confusion from fighting off those selkies—Remember? We were helping Bronach?—yeah, anyway. It was just tingly and weird, I don't think it means anything," Stiles replied. Now, Tony was actively trying to bat at the phone. And hitting Stiles's chest repeatedly in the process. Okay, baby slaps were fine, but the protruding  _claws_ were leaving a mark for sure.

"And what about you taking care of Tony? Derek's still a wolf, he has the basic wolf instincts."

"This is  _temporary_. We've talked about this. And he was there ever since we found the baby; he never reacted," Stiles grumbled.

Tony had decided that the world was entirely against him because Stiles wouldn't hand over the phone, so he proceeded to pout, freeze, and start sobbing. Messily. 

Lydia either didn't hear the crying or she didn't care, because she continued her interrogation.

"Well, that doesn't match up with how he was reacting to the Kingston pack's baby. Has Jennifer been doing anything weird?"

"Lydia, just drop it, okay? They've been together for two years now, okay? And Derek seems happy, everyone seems happy."

"You don't seem happy. And Peter doesn't sound as stable as when I left, from what I've seen."

Stiles could hear her cringe even over the phone. Lydia never talked about Peter, never talked  _to_ him either, but she did bring him in when she needed to prove a point about the supernatural, even though it pained her just to think about him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a born wolf. And it's true that the pack's dynamics are a bit... _out there_ , but he's a born wolf. He's more sensitive to changes within the pack structure, naturally," Lydia sniffed indignantly. She hated talking about Peter, but she hated when Stiles played dumb even more.

"Well, since when has Peter ever acted normally?"

There was rustling in the background, and Lydia tsked exasperatedly. "Look, we WILL talk about this again, do you hear me? I have a conference in ten minutes."

And then she hung up.

"Oh, okay. Bye!" Stiles stuttered belatedly.

As soon as he placed the phone on the table, Tony's sobs slowly dwindled into little hiccups and gushing tears. Stiles did his best to wipe away the tears and soothe the hiccups, but he really had no idea what just happened. Tony was calmer, but he was still pouting up a storm.

"What happened? Did you want to play with the phone? Well, I know you're not hungry, since you just ate at the den. Did I wake you up from your nap? But you've been asleep for a good three hours. The forum says you only need a one-hour nap every day. But you didn't sleep last night, either. Huh. Do you wanna go back to sleep?" As soon as Stiles tilted him back, Tony started to fuss again. Stiles immediately shifted him back to their last position.

"O- _kay_ _._ Well then. All children  _are_ different, so... Just give me a clue?"

Tony looked up at him pitifully, eyes still glistening from his fit. Then, the baby tried to nuzzle into Stiles's neck and started to fuss again when he couldn't reach.

"Oh, huh, you wanna cuddle? Aw, you're a little teddy bear, aren't you?"

It made sense. Werewolf instincts, the need for pack as an anchor.

_Derek did the same thing that night, after everything was—_

NOPE. Not going there again. 

_But they were mates, Stiles could definitely FEEL it that night, even now. There was a tingly feeling, like when he made the mountain ash circle, and when he helped Lydia stabilize her banshee screams, and basically every time he talked to the new big bad in town. But Derek made everything softer and warmer, almost glowing, and that was pretty nice. And he knew—hell, even Lydia knew—that nothing had changed since that night. Well, nothing except for Derek. And just two weeks later, Ms. Blake—_

Tony was making soft little cooing noises, sniffing loudly at Stiles's throat. Stiles could feel the baby's eyelashes brushing against his skin, indicating that Tony was probably going to drift off again.

_The pediatric's advice column said that babies needed a routine. But everything had been crazy for the past two days, and the pediatric said that babies needed all their sleep, too, right? Oh, well, too late. Tony was already asleep. No more fluttering eyelashes._

"Well, you're certainly adapting better than I thought."

Stiles whipped around to face the front door, where a grinning Peter stood staring at Tony...who had just woken up abruptly, confused and—apparently—threatened by the sudden presence of another werewolf, if the sharp claws were any indication.

_Great._

"I knocked. Several times, actually," Peter stated, as if that made everything better. Tony showed off his fangs, looking more cute than threatening. "And you  _are_ adjusting well. Better than Derek, anyway."

"God, still? He's the Alpha, he's supposed to be taking care of the baby! He's the one who'll have to give Tony back to his parents, or pack, or whatever. And, and where is he, anyway? The baby's gonna help  _his_ pack," Stiles tittered nervously. He still didn't like being so close to Peter Hale, especially not alone and in his own apartment.

Tony picked up on the nervous tension Stiles was putting off, and that was enough for him to start growling at Peter.

"Oh, Stiles! Only 24, and already a mother? Honestly, what would your father say?" Peter grinned. Like a predator.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles asked, mostly just tired of holding an irate baby in his arms.

"I only wanted to help," Peter pouted mockingly, "but it looks like you've got everything under control. I did come bearing presents."

And that was when Stiles noted the grocery bags that Peter was holding. Diapers, wipes, clothes, and little toys as well as a wrapped gift box.

"Yes, gifts. I'm benefitting from this baby arrangement, too, and haven't I told you, Stiles? I'm not  _completely_ evil. We're on the same side now. Anyway. I can see where I'm not wanted." He placed the grocery bags next to the door, propped the gift box on top of the desk next to Stiles's laptop, and walked out of the door, as if he hadn't been there at all.

Gradually, Tony calmed down enough to lose the fangs and continue nuzzling his cheek against Stiles.

"Alright, buddy. Sorry about that," Stiles mumbled against the top of Tony's head, placing a gentle kiss as he mumbled more soothing nonsense. Tony seemed even more exhausted, making gradually softer cooing noises as his eyes blinked shut.

~

Stiles had waited until Tony was asleep—like,  _really_ asleep, not just dozing—before he lay the toddler on his bed and created a sort-of pillow cage so Tony wouldn't fall off the bed. He'd figure out a better sleeping situation tomorrow. Peering at Tony's soft face, he had to admit that the kid was kind of adorable when he wasn't screaming or crying until his face turned red.

Putting up the diapers and other groceries that Peter had bought, Stiles was so preoccupied with the next day's unknown that he completely forgot about the gift box on the desk. Hesitantly, Stiles picked up the box and shook it slowly. 

He removed the wrapping (plain paper) to reveal a heirloom-esque container, about the size of a normal tea box, that held what looked like tea sachets. The outside of the container was gracefully etched with the (very worn) words:

_Good for sparks, mages, and druids. Affectionately given from the Hale alpha to the Hale pack's designated emissary._

"Cool. So I guess that solves the mystery of what  _I_ am to the pack. And. Derek. Resident researcher and pack emissary. That's not too bad. I can live with that."

A post-it note fell off from the bottom of the container as Stiles moved to the kitchen.

"... _For the new mommy_? _From Uncle Peter_? What." 

Seriously?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted before this Saturday! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the Sheriff finds out and Stiles has many doubts about Jennifer Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos, and sorry for the late update! I just started my internship, and the 8 hour shifts are kind of taking their toll! On the upside, my cold is gone just in time!

"Stiles? Hey, kiddo, you still up for lunch today? Stiles?"

The familiar voice was getting closer, and Stiles tried to burrow his head under his pillow to avoid going to school. Because that's why his dad would be in his room, waking him up, right?

Except there was no pillow. Or a blanket. There was no escape from waking up, except for this pressure on his chest? Maybe the start of a cold? Ugh, maybe his dad would be merciful and let him stay home from class...

"Stiles, wake up. God, you must be really out of it! Graduation was last month, and yes, you did say all of that out loud. Who's your little...friend?"

A big, strong hand grabbed at his shoulder, shaking slightly, and then the pressure was lifted from his chest.

"Dad! Daddy-o. Uh, hey. Dad. Good morning?" Stiles tried, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. And ouch,  _that_ was why he never slept on the couch. Yup, never doing that again.

"It's noon," the Sheriff replied, trying to keep a stern face. He failed pretty badly, though, since Tony was squirming and poking at his stubble curiously. "You were supposed to meet me at the Hale house for lunch, but none of the others said they'd seen you today. And I called you just about a billion times!"

"Oh, well. Sorry. Dad, this is Tony, a little werewolf baby that kind of appeared out of nowhere two days ago. He's an omega, but we've decided to take him in for awhile. Oh, yeah! And we wanted to ask if there were any missing children that might fit his description? It's just, Deaton said he couldn't sense any recent pack bonds, but Tony was fully dressed and fed when we found him. So I figured that he couldn't have wandered far from his parents. Or guardians?"

"Okay, okay, breathe. I doubt there will be any reports in the system yet. Last I heard, the only missing children in Beacon Hills were teenagers, but I can check for the records in Beacon County. And for God's sake, if he's a werewolf,  _please_ don't put up flyers. We do  _not_ need another hostile pack visiting after what happened last time." 

Tony was more alert now, and was trying to poke into the Sheriff's mouth with his index finger. The Sheriff failed miserably at sounding exasperated and annoyed, and had moved on to making faces at the wiggling toddler.

"Gotcha. No posters. We can still go out to lunch, right? Uh, what time is it?" Stiles finally scrambled to his feet, poking Tony in the cheek with a finger. Tony was still too entranced by the Sheriff's stubble to respond.

"I thought we could just stay here. You go wash up, and I'll go find something."

"Cool!"

 

~

 

It wasn't that Stiles couldn't cook. It was the opposite, actually—his mom passing away early on made Stiles more concerned with health and nutrition than was probably normal for a teenage boy. College had been quite the experience, too, trying to stay healthy within a  _very_ fixed budget while everyone else lived on cheap ramen and crazy amounts of caffeine.

"I don't think I've ever seen your kitchen so empty! But I guess with all the times you've eaten dinner at the Hale house, I should've expected this," the Sheriff sighed after Stiles emerged from the bathroom.

"I was supposed to get groceries a couple days ago, but there was a weird troll thing in the preserve and then Tony came out of nowhere."

And besides, Stiles usually cooked at the Hale house for the pack, since Jennifer had insisted on getting a  _huge_  kitchen with the works. That had made Stiles stingy at first, that she was trying to take his place in the group (Um,  _hello,_ he was there first!) until Stiles realized that Jennifer wouldn't cook. Well, not a full meal the way he could, and definitely not in bulk for the whole pack. She only ever made tea and coffee for everyone. It felt like she was  _giving him permission_ to stay in his own pack, and that rubbed Stiles the wrong way. The others didn't seem to pick up on anything. He suspected that they knew that  _something_ had occurred between Derek, Stiles, and Jennifer to completely change up the dynamic of the pack, but he didn't think any of them knew any more than that.

So when Derek and Jennifer started to become more and more official, forming something of an Alpha pair, Stiles hadn't interfered. They had enough drama in Beacon Hills without the pack tearing itself apart, right? And the whole mating thing he felt was just between him and Derek, and he wasn't even sure Derek would acknowledge it. He didn't even know if it was a real  _thing that existed._  And Jennifer hadn't done anything terribly  _evil_  in the two years she'd been here. Of course, there were more and more supernaturals showing up each week, but that was a coincidence, right? Because the pack was growing and thriving, and people wanted the prime magical real estate that was Beacon Hills?

(Of course not. The pack been growing since their junior year of _high school_ , not just the last two years. But Stiles would keep his head down to avoid any conflict with Derek and the pack. That was his role: researcher and pack chef.)

The Sheriff had managed to find just enough food to assemble two sandwiches, and he'd been awesome enough to give Tony a bowl of Cheerios for a snack. Tony, remembering how delicious the golden cereal tasted, made a celebratory noise and tried to stuff a fistful of the stuff into his mouth. 

"Babababa, bababa," Tony cooed graciously, waving one hand at the Sheriff and playing with the Cheerios with the other.

"He doesn't know a lot of words, does he?" the Sheriff asked. He also made a face at the turkey sandwich that contained very little turkey.

"That's what Deaton said! And yeah, the online stuff says he should at least be able to say a few words and ask for things. He's behind," Stiles replied.

"Hm. He's in a strange place without his parents. Has he tried asking for them yet?"

"Nope."

They both turned and stared at the baby, who was still oblivious to his surroundings. The Sheriff waved at him a little to get his attention. "Hi, baby, what's your name?" the Sheriff tried.

Tony shifted his gaze to Stiles, making an adorable confused noise. He  _did_ wave back at the Sheriff, though, so that was something?

"Um, hey, baby? Tony? Is that your name?" Stiles tried. 

"Beh- _bee_ ," Tony tried. _  
_

"And what about Mommy? Can you say mommy?" the Sheriff asked, his stare unwavering.

There was a long pause, and Tony looked so confused by the question that Stiles scooped him up. All at once, the calm moment had been broken, and Tony began crying, almost as hard as when they first found him.

"Ma, mama," Tony sniffled pathetically. He wrapped his arms around Stiles's neck and nuzzled him again. 

So, definitely not trying  _that_ again anytime soon.

It took a few minutes before Tony finally calmed down enough to want his Cheerios again, at which point the Sheriff declared he had to go back to work.

"Look, I've got a few vacation days saved up for these...situations. Just call me if you need a mental health day, yeah?" The Sheriff made sure that Stiles agreed before pulling him into a hug. "Why don't you go spend the day at the Hale house? There'll be more people there who can watch Tony, and you can get some studying done. Take a break, it's your gap year! Some normality in all of the chaos, okay?"

"Okay, yeah. That's a good idea. I'll text Scott now. Thanks, Dad."

"Take care now. If you stay at the Hale house, I'll drop by later for dinner. And give Tony a hug for me, yeah?"

 

~

 

When Stiles finally got Tony changed into baby jeans and a tiny plaid shirt ( _thanks_ , Peter) and loaded Tony into the carseat in his Jeep (thanks, Dad), he drove straight to the Hale house.

"Aw, he looks just like you now!" Scott was at the door of the Jeep, carrying Tony out of his carseat before Stiles even had a chance to get out.

"Yeah, Uncle Creeper thought it would be funny if we had matching outfits, I guess," Stiles shrugged. His dad was right, he felt a bit more relaxed having someone else look after Tony for a bit.

Inside, Erica and Boyd were lounging on the loveseat and with crazy amounts of junk food before them. Stiles was pretty sure they were watching Parks and Rec reruns, judging from the occasional snort and giggle. When they noticed that Stiles was there, Erica immediately turned off the TV and ran to Scott's side, cradling Tony against her. Boyd followed at a much calmer pace.

"Don't run. It'll spook him," Boyd explained.

And then Stiles remembered Boyd's vast experience from babysitting siblings and cousins, and he felt even more content being with the pack.

"Hi, little man! Aren't you just precious? And you look just like Mommy!" Erica squealed, albeit at a much more tolerable pitch than expected.

"Ma, ma, ma," Tony replied, once again becoming attracted to Erica's hair. Amazingly, he didn't stuff handfuls of hair into his mouth, for which Stiles sighed in relief. That would have been a disaster for everyone currently inside the house (and maybe even outside, but Stiles didn't dwell on it).

"Hey, I'm not his mother! No birthing hips, see? And I prefer temporary guardian," Stiles huffed when he finally caught on to what Erica was saying.

"At least he's learning new words," Boyd remarked.

"Yeah, and how will we explain that to his parents?"

"I thought Deaton said that Tony wasn't associated with any packs?" Scott inquired, tilting his head. Tony mimicked the motion and apparently thought the new angle was an awesome position from which he could continue petting Erica's hair.

"His parents might still be around," Stiles suggested.

Scott pursed his lips but nodded in agreement. Erica began bouncing the happy toddler on her hip while Boyd played a stoic but hilarious game of peek-a-boo with said toddler. Tony seemed to think that Boyd's lack of changing expressions was even more intriguing than Erica's hair.

"What's all of this?"

All heads turned to watch Jennifer Blake descending the grand staircase. It was weird, how her tone was simultaneously sugary and matter-of-fact. Stiles mentally connected her to Dolores Umbridge and the "I must not tell lies" scene. He shuddered (mentally).

"Jenny!" Stiles cringed at how high and anxious his voice sounded. "This is Tony! Um, the toddler from the preserve!"

"Oh, is it? I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting." Jennifer strode over to their little group and plucked Tony out of Erica's arms. 

Tony looked up, surprised that Boyd had stopped their little game, and promptly howled as he realized he was in the arms of a stranger. His fangs were protruding from his open mouth, and his claws dug into Jennifer's shoulder. He cried when Stiles didn't take him back fast enough.

"Sorry, um. Must not like strangers. You know, he did the same thing with Peter yesterday, so please don't be offended?"

Stiles couldn't shake off the feeling of being hunted whenever Jennifer was in the room. Maybe it was because she'd begun dating Derek right after the "breakup" (They were never together, were they? Did that one time even count for anything?), but Stiles always had the feeling that there was a panic attack sneaking up on him every time he saw Jennifer. It was a terrible feeling because rationally, there was no reason to be afraid of her (right?). As Derek's girlfriend— _and_ _mate?_ —Jennifer was their pack mother. She was supposed to care for all of them.

"Of course not, sweetie! I  _completely_ understand," Jennifer replied, saccharine sweet and brilliant grin showing off all her teeth. "Actually, Stiles, since Tony is under pack protection now, why don't you move into the Hale house with the rest of the pack? It would certainly make taking care of the baby more...convenient, and Tony will adjust to having a pack."

Stiles knew, he  _knew_ , that Jennifer had good intentions (probably?), but the tingly spark of magic said otherwise. On a more personal level, Stiles felt like she was  _rubbing it in, gloating_ that she had Derek, but Stiles immediately deleted the thought. It was just bad timing, right? And Jennifer probably didn't even know they were together in the first pace.

As Stiles struggled to calm himself, though, Tony lunged towards the front door, nearly toppling out of Stiles's hold, and made an unintelligible noise.

Oh joy, Derek had just gotten home from work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when I can update again, but it'll definitely be this week (and most likely longer, now that I'm feeling better)! Everything will start unraveling soon~!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek complicates the situation. Deaton is a little helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh nooooooo. I thought I posted this on Friday, but I accidentally pressed "Save without posting" instead of "Post". Sorryyyyyyyy, guys.
> 
> But also, thank you for the kudos and comments! I'm really glad you like it! Thanks for bearing with me so far!

It wasn't like they avoided each other. Well, not since Derek and Jennifer hooked up. Because that would be childish, right? And Stiles wasn't childish, he was better than that, he wasn't petty like that. So for the past two years, Stiles bit his tongue and interacted with the new Alpha pair as though nothing was wrong ( _everything_ felt wrong when he saw them together).

Because he loved his pack; they were his to protect and care for, even before they were officially  _pack_.

"What's going on here?" Derek asked, wrapping an arm around Jennifer's waist and giving her a peck on the cheek.

Stiles tilted his head respectfully ( _So wrong, this is so wrong._ ) and replied accordingly. "Oh, Tony's just not used to strangers, he's been doing that every time he meets someone new..."

"And Stiles will be moving into the spare room. Wouldn't it integrate the werebaby into the pack more completely? No other pack would question it. Any allies we gain, we would gain completely, unconditionally. We can keep an eye on Tony here, too," Jennifer explained, never taking her eyes off of Stiles.

That would definitely feed his nightmares, yup.

Derek gazed contemplatively for a few minutes before stepping away from her and towards Stiles. Stiles inhaled sharply, hugging Tony closer.

"Baba," Tony said in a rather matter-of-fact tone, sounding adorably coherent and intelligent. But then he jammed three of his fingers inside his mouth, made a garbling sound, and the effect was ruined. 

Eh, Tony seemed to consider himself a regular comedian, so who was Stiles to crush his dreams?

"Beta. Alpha," Derek replied, staring straight at Tony and standing _this close_ to Stiles. Stiles and Tony were completely frozen, Stiles in anticipation of Tony's reaction, and Tony in awe of Derek's red alpha eyes.

In just a split second, Tony's eyes flashed gold before he turned back to Stiles, head tilting in confusion. Stiles gave a weird head-bob motion, and Tony turned back to Derek and cooed. He grabbed at Derek's nose a couple of times, and then he leaned over and held his arms out to Derek.

"Uh! Uh!" He grunted until Derek made a move to hold him.

"Well, looks like we're all getting along pretty well! This'll make the transition _much_ smoother than I planned," Jennifer laughed shakily. She was right at Derek's back again.

Derek looked at her meaningfully and nodded.

"Jenny and I have talked about this. We want you to move into the spare bedroom, the one next to Isaac, so we can keep an eye on the cub. Jenny's been prepared enough to furnish the room for you, so Tony can stay with you," Derek explained slowly.

And he was  _looking at Stiles_ , just as intense as always, and he looked like he was gonna say something else...? ( _Oh my god, Derek is asking me to move in with him, but "Jenny" is in the equation? Oh my god..._ )

But no, Derek held Tony out at arm's length, blew a raspberry on his tummy, and placed him in Jennifer's arms...where Tony proceeded to make whimpering sounds that Stiles just  _knew_ would evolve into screams if the situation wasn't fixed immediately. Stiles decided to be merciful to all the werewolves in the house as he grabbed Tony again.

"But what about my apartment? I still have a—"

"Dude! We'll take care of it! In the meantime, let's go check out your new room! Jenny wouldn't let us in until she was  _absolutely sure_  that Derek would let you guys stay! Isn't that nice? And now that you're living here, you can make your triple chocolate cheesecake  _every single day_ , and we'll never go hungry ever again!" Scott said in one breath. Stiles was glad that Scott's asthma wouldn't be acting up again, since Scott acted like a hyperactive puppy all the time nowadays.

"Really? Um, yeah, okay. Why not?"

Famous last words.

 

~

 

The first thing that hit Stiles (and literally, he was about to bowl over and drop Tony) was the intense smell of cinnamon. Not that Stiles hated the smell—hell, anything with cinnamon was pretty good to Stiles—but if the scent was  _attacking his nose and suffocating him_ , then of course he would hate it.

"Dude, geez, what's that—ugh, what's that smell?" Stiles asked, trying to rub his fingers over his sinuses, hoping to at least lessen the impact of the scent. He was surprised to see Scott still standing straight and tall, looking confused with his goofy smile still in place.

"What smell? It's just the new paint, probably. That's weird, Jenny said she'd already aired out the room. Or maybe it's your spark? I can't smell anything?" Scott asked jokingly.

Now, one of the things that had never been settled between the two of them was the matter of Stiles's magic. Or lack of, according to Scott. Stiles couldn't figure out why Scott doubted him: It had never been a problem between them, especially when it came to Stiles spreading mountain ash or Stiles holding up Derek in a pool for two hours or Stiles _sensing enemies on Hale territory before the werewolves, thank you very much._ But as of the last couple of years, Scott had laughed hesitantly and blamed it on _"Adrenaline, see, Stiles? I'm learning things in vet school!"_ and  _"Paranoia, especially after that rat demon attacked!"_. 

And Stiles, wanting to avoid conflict with the pack because he only got to see them a few days out of the year, had laughed forcefully and agreed with Scott. He stopped thinking about the spark and relied instead on his Researching Skillz. Because getting ready for medical school and taking care of the pack were his duties, at least for now. 

"Oh, must just be me, haha," Stiles replied forcefully. Tony disagreed immensely, scratching at his nose and snuffling unapologetically.

"Oh, no! The blog I was reading said that the smells from new paint would agitate small children, so I've been lighting a bunch of candles for the past few days. Cinnamon was the only one I can get to block off the smells completely. Sorry, haha," Jennifer interjected from behind them.

With Derek right beside her.

"Jenny put a lot of time and effort into this, you know. You should be grateful that she was so generous," Derek huffed, maybe half-teasing, and wrapping an arm around Jennifer's shoulders.

"I didn't mean anything! Just, um. Oh! Cool crib!" Stiles said, barely sparing the crib a look as he tried to breathe evenly.

"Man, you okay? It's Jenny being herself, you don't have to get so excited!" Scott joked.

_But what was "Jenny being herself?" Was she hiding something? What was underneath the cinnamon? Under the short time he'd spent with Deaton, Stiles could pick up undertones of something else under the cinnamon, but he just couldn't place it immediately._

"Thanks. It's a nice room. I like the ocean theme," Stiles stated curtly. Well, it sounded curt because he could barely talk without being _suffocated by the cinnamon_.

"Oh, you know. It's in this year. Jungle themes are so last season," Jennifer laughed easily.

Derek and Scott laughed along, and Stiles was confused again. Had Jennifer made them both obsessed with interior decorating trends?

"You can stay here for the night, and you can keep your apartment for studying for medical school. And your apartment is closer to the hospital, so the pack's humans can still use it as an emergency den for when anything else attacks," Derek pointed out.

"Yeah, but rent—"

"You're still working at that clinic, right?"

"Only part-time now, but—"

"Dude, it'll be okay! The pack will protect you now! We can hang out more now, and I can see you at other times besides when you're researching or fighting things!" Scott finished. 

Seeing that he was fighting a losing battle (Thank god the Troublesome Trio had retreated to the kitchen, or else Stiles would have been  _decimated._ ), Stiles sighed and nodded in surrender.

It would be pure torture to stay at the den all the time and see Derek and Jennifer necking all the time (the main reason for why Stiles had rented an apartment instead of staying at the pack den upon graduating from college), but Stiles supposed he could manage it. He missed Scott and Erica like all hell, and he wanted to coddle Boyd and Isaac with baked sweets, and now, Tony could have a more extensive support system. A pack. That's what Tony needed, right?

He would just have to deal with Jennifer. Realistically, she hadn't done anything to harm Stiles yet (physically, not emotionally), so he couldn't say anything. It's just, she had a whole room prepared for him and some baby that didn't exist until recently? How likely was that to happen? And Jennifer was a high school English teacher, not a saint. She had to be plotting  _something_ , right? At least living this close would let him keep tabs on her ( _unless she kills me first)_. 

Nope. Not thinking about that.

 

~

 

"He does have a bit of hypotonia, which I wouldn't have expected to see in werewolves. It's strange because typically, when they say lycanthropes are immune to diseases, they mean genetic defects, too. See how his knees are slightly inverted? And now—see how he has some sort of muscle contracture in his arms when I move them  _like this_ _?"_ Deaton pulled Tony's arm from his shoulder to his hip. "See how there was a pause in the middle? Now, repeat that motion slowly. See how it doesn't happen?"

Stiles nodded and pinched Tony's cheek softly. Tony huffed indignantly, staring up at Stiles with furrowed brows and a huge pout.

"And he seems to be a very paranoid baby, almost as high-strung as you," Deaton remarked casually.

"Very funny," Stiles replied without contempt. Deaton was still as tight-lipped as he was during Stiles's high school years, but Stiles felt comfortable enough to joke around with him now that Deaton had taken on an informal mentor role to Stiles's...spark?

"It's strange, though. Very strange. Hypotonia is something I would have caught during his first physical exam here; it's not something that just...happens, you know. Usually, the condition is a manifestation of something...bigger. In human children, these "somethings" would be genetic disorders, neurological disorders, severe infections, severe malnourishment, to name a few. There's no reason for him to be developing it now, especially since he's a werewolf who has never been malnourished. Although I wonder, has he been exposed to any toxins as of late? In humans, childhood mercury poisoning may lead to hypotonia, but in werewolves, well..."

"No, there hasn't been...Wait. Not to sound  _paranoid_ , but there was a crazy amount of cinnamon smell in the Hale house. Er, just mine and Tony's room, actually. But, you know, it's not toxic or anything. Just, there was something else, too? I couldn't recognize it right away, but it was kind of sharp-smelling? It kind of smelled gross, but the cinnamon was covering it up," Stiles replied, trying to remember the scent. 

Tony was unimpressed by Stiles ignoring him, so he lifted his gaze to Deaton, arms extended to show that he wanted to be held again. Deaton only looked down long enough to pick Tony up, before looking back at Stiles inquiringly.

"Tony also seems a little clingy, considering his age. He hasn't expressed interest in any of the other animals in the building, even though he can clearly hear them. If this behavior carries over even after he meets someone, I would be worried for his psychological development."

"Huh. This seems a bit too  _convenient_ , but he's only reacted badly to two people: Peter, at first, and Jennifer, even now. I haven't seen Peter again to confirm anything, but Jennifer...we were eating dinner yesterday, and he was managing his spaghetti just fine, but as soon as Jennifer stepped into the room, he completely  _lost it_ _._  And last night,I had to take him outside because he hated his new room so much. Jennifer designed that room! She spent the most time in it, and—"

"Let's not point fingers at anyone right now, Stiles. I'm not sure what's going on, but I would advise you to tread with great caution. Tony is a werewolf baby, and even at this age, they are extremely aware of the events around them. If he acts unnaturally for a baby, I think _a little_ paranoia might be a good thing, hm?"

Stiles swallowed thickly, staring at Tony. Tony was distracted, playing with a button on Deaton's shirt, but looked up at Stiles's face during the pause in conversation.

"Yeah, I'll be careful. Paranoid, huh?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paranoid baby was actually inspired by one of the patients I saw during my internship. He was admitted because of child neglect, and he was SO SUSPICIOUS of everyone. After the second day, we got him to smile, though. WIN!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets sick(er). Derek and Stiles share a moment. Chris Argent is back in town with someone else in tow.

"Scott, what the  _fuck_ , just why didn't you say anything?" Stiles growled out. He gripped the phone tighter to his cheek, lest anyone in the waiting room started complaining. Tony, who had gotten used to the pack in the past couple of days, was  _screaming his head off_  "for no apparent reason," according to Scott.

"Look, werewolves run on slightly higher temperatures than humans, okay? And at first, we thought he was just fussy, but then he started shivering and coughing, too! So Derek, Isaac, and I took him to Deaton's—"

"I JUST TOOK HIM TO DEATON'S THIS MORNING!" Stiles retorted. One of the patients looked up from her magazine, scandalized; Stiles gave her his most winning smile (customer service, right?), but she'd already turned back to her magazine. Tony's screams died down as he heard Stiles's shouting.

"Mah, mah, bah—"

"And Deaton told us it was just an ear infection, which, yeah, we thought was weird because normally, werewolves don't get sick. Or at least, that's what Derek said. And we're trying to get Tony to take his antibiotics, so that's why he's screaming," Scott rambled aimlessly.

"Ugh, poor baby. What antibiotics did Deaton prescribe?"

"Clindamycin, because that's what werewolves need. It tastes disgusting, apparently," Scott replied. 

"Yeah, you might want to give him a spoonful of chocolate syrup, just to clear the taste. Maybe two, if you want to win him back. And hey, he might forgive you for forcing him to take it in the first place."

A patient walked in, filled out her information, and handed Stiles her insurance card. She hadn't taken her sunglasses off, which made Stiles kind of nervous, but he chalked it up to the paranoia. Besides, Tony was starting to fuss again over the phone.

"Thanks, ma'am. The nurse will call you back shortly," Stiles smiled, handing the woman's insurance card back as swiftly as possible. The woman nodded, grabbed the card, and sat down right next to Stiles's desk. She didn't pick up a magazine or take out her phone, choosing to look at the TV (and occasionally glance at Stiles) instead. Well, that would be awkward.

"Ugh, he just spit up on me! Just hurry back, okay?"

 

~

 

When Stiles got back to the Hale house, Scott had already left for work at Deaton's. Isaac was out on a date with someone, and Boyd and Erica were...Oh, Monday night, date night. And Peter, well, no one  _ever_ knew where Peter went in his spare time (aka, when he wasn't giving snarky commentary, researching, or laughing at Derek's fails). Jennifer needed "alone time" for four hours every Monday night because, in her words, "I'm still just a human! Haha, a girl needs her personal space, and I can't get that with you cubs all around me every hour of the day!"

So that left Derek. And Derek usually stuck around the common areas of the Hale house whenever he was home alone, since he was the Alpha and all. Which. Speak of the devil—

"Stiles."

Stiles whipped around, nearly twisting his ankle ( _not cool, stop)_. Derek emerged from the master suite, holding a sleeping Tony in his arms.

"Oh! Uh, hey! How are you? How's the baby?" Stiles gasped out.

After all that time, he still wasn't used to being in a room alone with Derek. 

_Because the last time we were alone for too long, Derek actually touched me and talked to me, and we were completely TOGETHER and it felt so natural, why don't we do that anymore? I love him SO MUCH, and I miss him so much..._

"Fine. We're both fine. But your dad came over after his lunch break, a little after you called, and took Tony out to the park. He seemed to like it, hasn't coughed as much since then," Derek replied, raising an eyebrow. He handed Tony over to Stiles, who immediately snuggled against the little boy. Tony reciprocated by sleepily sniffing at Stiles's throat.

"I. I can take him back to my apartment. Just for the night. So, you know, he won't bother you guys if he starts getting sicker. Because my apartment is closer to the hospital and Deaton, you know?" Stiles rambled. 

_God, so embarrassing, Derek must think he was a complete loser._

"If you think it's best. You're Tony's guardian for now," Derek replied concisely. He stroked down Tony's head with one his hands, and  _how had Stiles not noticed how CLOSE Derek was? And they must have looked like quite the domestic werewolf family, with Stiles holding a sleeping baby and Derek nearly cuddling against Stiles._

It was blissfully quiet for a few minutes, except for Tony's soft little noises as he nuzzled against Derek and Stiles. Surprisingly, Derek was the one who started up to conversation again.

"Do you have a problem with Jenny?"

"What?"  _Derek couldn't be serious, right? Did he really not remember that night? At all? Stiles was totally entitled to his feelings of awkwardness and paranoia. What even, Derek?_

"Just, your heartbeat skyrockets every time you two are in the same room. You know, she's been trying really hard to get to know you. She's already the pack mother to everyone else in the pack, and it upsets her that you won't even let her try to get close," Derek grumbled, sounding annoyed now.

"I—What? Dude, do you not remember? I mean, excuse me if I'm feeling a little awkward around her—"

"Why? What's she ever done to you? Jenny's been so patient, trying so hard to get to know you, and this is your response to her kindness? It's been two years! Whatever little  _crush_ you had on me—"

"Sorry, what?!  _Little crush?!_ Is that what it is now?" Stiles saw red, and it definitely wasn't just Derek's eyes. Tony began to stir from the tension.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! As if you pushing Jenny away wasn't enough, you had to go and _brainwash Tony_ _with your spark_ to keep him away from her, too? That isn't fair to her, Stiles, or to Tony," Derek hissed, removing his hand from Tony's head and clutching at Stiles's arms instead, his claws digging into the flesh. And wow, Stiles had never been on the receiving side of _that_ before, even though he probably should have seen it coming, what with how Derek acted towards him ever since that night. He had to admit, it hurt  _a lot_ more than he could have thought possible.

_This isn't right, I'm not supposed to fight with him. And what is he talking about? I can't brainwash anyone! What...The spark! It's not right, everything about this is wrong and unnatural!  
_

"Maybe it would be for the best if I stayed at my apartment for awhile," Stiles uttered softly, confused and overwhelmed. The spark, or whatever it was, thrummed angrily in his gut, fighting everything he was thinking about leaving the Hale house.

Derek's jaw was clenched, the tension still thick in the air, before he exhaled loudly and removed his claws from Stiles, stepping away from the pair. "Yeah, maybe you should. Don't come back until you're ready to apologize to Jenny; she's already had to deal with enough from you and Tony as it is."

And wasn't that just a kick to the crotch? A slap to the face?

Stiles breathed in deeply before turning straight back around and stalking back to his Jeep, sick toddler in his arms.

 

~

 

Tony got better, gradually. By werewolf standards, his healing factor was  _worryingly_ slow, but Deaton assured Stiles that as long as Tony was feeling better, that was all that mattered. Soon though, the hypotonia started to ease away, something Deaton had never seen before in humans  _or_ werewolves. Tony picked up on words much more quickly and clung onto Stiles much more readily. He also met strangers with less suspicion than before, even though no one from the pack had visited either of them since Stiles and Derek's little... _argument_.

Even Scott had made himself scarce, only showing up once to babysit for Stiles during one of his shifts at the hospital as an ER scribe.

Fortunately, though, the Sheriff had been awesome enough to stop by at least once a day, usually with food or baby supplies to help Stiles. Once, when Stiles had been so exhausted from work and from the emotional turmoil, the Sheriff had actually taken Tony home with him, leaving Stiles alone for some time to rest and sort through his feelings (time that he hadn't taken advantage of, researching about trolls and poisons and sparks and mates and...).

And then the Sheriff decided to stage an intervention.

"You know, son, it's your business with the pack. But if you need to rest... Well, just remember that you have someone else depending on you now, too," the Sheriff tried.

They were eating lunch together again, this time with turkey and avocado wraps. With whole grain tortillas. In an effort to alleviate some of Stiles's stress, the Sheriff had tried to get _healthy food._ And that should have been the first clue.

"I know. It's just. There's so much to deal with! And I'm trying to keep everyone safe, and I don't know what's gonna come get us next. And Tony's been so  _sick,_ it's unnatural for a born werewolf to be so  _sick_. And I don't even know how to deal with sick babies! And, and work has been a pain in the butt, too. I could have totally handled work if it weren't for—"

"Stiles. You know why you've been so strung up about everything," the Sheriff interjected calmly.

Stiles sighed, catching his breath. Tony remained oblivious to everything, trying to steal bits of the turkey wrap from his place in the Sheriff's lap.

The Sheriff continued, "When your mother passed. So suddenly. It wasn't the best time for me, either. I'd just become Sheriff, remember? And you'd just been diagnosed with ADHD, and depression, and you were  _so sick_ all the time. And after I tried burying myself in my work, researching dementia every chance I got, trying to link you symptoms to anything that could have _possibly_  been more serious, I was just so  _drunk and tired_ of being sad all the time, I'd started to really think about it. And it was really hard, but I made myself get through it for you. Even during that time, when I was so confused and unsure about what was going to happen to us next, that was the only thing that kept me going for a long time."

His voice cracked and Stiles saw him rubbing one of his eyes.

"You won't be able to see the future, supernatural creature or not. And you can prepare as much as you want, have as much information as you can get, but it won't always work out the way you want it to. Remember how you got this little guy?" 

Tony squealed in delight as the Sheriff scratched his head.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Stiles conceded.

"Now, why are you so on edge about Jennifer anyway?" the Sheriff tried. He wouldn't push if Stiles didn't want to answer, but he still wanted to give Stiles an ear, since the pack was obviously trying to steer clear of the problem.

"Dad, it's so stupid. I just—"

"It's not stupid. Maybe there really is something to be suspicious of, right?" the Sheriff encouraged.

"Probably. It's just. So a couple of years ago, Derek and I kinda slept together. Oh, by the way, I'm bi," Stiles teetered nervously.

"Nothing I didn't already know. Continue."

"Wait, what? You knew? But I never said anything, I never—"

"They didn't elect me to be sheriff just because of my awesome campaign posters, you know. And I'd like to think I know my son well enough to know what his type is, thanks. Honestly, I thought this would come up a _lot_ earlier."

"Oh. Well. This makes it easier. So, Derek and I slept together once, a couple of years ago. Remember that time with the unicorn hunters, and the fae kingdom had some kind of treaty with the unicorns, and the pack was caught in the crossfire? And then the selkies came over and nearly started that whole war thing? Well, Derek and I, we were both really hurt, and adrenaline was involved, and things just kind of...happened?"

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"So we ended up doing all of this stuff, and I really thought something was there, you know? We talked about...well, everything. It was great, and my spark became, like, anchored, and I could start controlling my spark enough to channel magic into specific things, and it just, well, it was perfect. And then he disappeared for a couple of weeks, and he came back with Ms. Blake, and everyone just accepted it so quickly, like they were perfect for each other. And the spark, my spark. It's usually right, since it's a channel that absorbs natural energy from magic users, and...I won't bore you with the technicalities, but I know something is off about Ms. Blake. Every time I see her, my spark acts up, and it feels like it's trying to suffocate me. The same way it did with Matt Daehler, and Jackson, and Gerard Argent, and..."

Stiles took a minute to collect himself, still gasping from the memory of the feeling. Deaton had always reinforced that the spark was supposed to feel natural, and that only made Stiles more paranoid. But sometimes the paranoia protected him, right? He was still alive, his dad was still alive, Scott was still alive, Melissa, Lydia, Erica, Isaac, Boyd...

"Stiles." 

His dad's voice was enough for Stiles to snap back to attention, looking straight at the Sheriff. Luckily, he didn't seem ready to toss Stiles's concerns aside or sign Stiles up for a visit to Eichen House; instead, he was staring straight into Stiles's eyes calmly, determinedly. He reached out with one hand (the one that wasn't holding onto Tony) and tousled Stiles's hair.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, okay? I can—I can run some background checks, see the school's records of her. If anything shows up—"

"Nothing's gonna show up, Sheriff."

Both the Sheriff and Stiles looked up abruptly towards the front door to see a bruised and battered Chris Argent, supporting an equally bruised and battered Peter Hale.

"Jennifer Blake isn't real. Her real name is Julia Baccari, and she's here for Stiles."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Peter reveal all through a long-winded, rather intriguing story. Then they (try to) get rid of Ms. Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! Your ideas were so GOOD, and I'm glad I could keep it cool for you guys...I was kind of scared the idea was a bit overused.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, there will be a LITTLE Chris/Peter. I debated putting it in here, since it's a small ship and not extremely significant to the plot, but I gave in because of my inner shipper. Sorry if it's a bit abrupt! I'm planning on writing a side-fic that features what the two of them went through in the previous chapters, but with more shipping. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles was  _so done_ with people sneaking into his apartment. Peter was always a bit on the creepy side, but Chris Argent? Really, dude?

Chris deposited Peter onto the couch, where the wolf proceeded to curl around a cushion, still half-clinging onto Chris. Chris shook the wolf's hand off, but he pushed Peter's legs away to sit next to him on the couch. Stiles was standing awkwardly in his living room as his dad occupied to the one chair off to the side, Tony still on his lap. Tony hiccuped loudly, then seemed annoyed that he couldn't stop hiccuping. He didn't pay Chris or Peter much attention afterwards. 

"What?" And Stiles couldn't tell if he'd said that out loud or not.

"Jennifer Blake—Julia Baccari—she's here for the spark. She's been harvesting enough power to get to Beacon Hills for the last  _twelve years._ She's been attacking wolf packs, fae kingdoms, the selkies, everyone, she's the reason for all the trouble here, lately," Peter huffed, clutching a cushion to his abdomen...where there was  _blood spilling out, oh my GOD, Peter, really?_

Tony seemed to recognize Peter's voice, despite not having seen him for a good two weeks. He turned to Peter, held out an arm, and hiccuped at him in acknowledgement. He remained wary towards Chris, predictably.

"Yes, pup, it's me. And no, I don't smell bad anymore. Come here," Peter grunted.

Stiles was about to protest, but Tony slipped from his perch on the Sheriff's lap to waddle towards Peter. Peter picked him up, and they started to scent-mark each other. Tony's brows furrowed again, and he made questioning cooing sounds. After a few seconds of thorough cuddling, Tony seemed to think that Peter was trustworthy enough to stay in the house, so he settled against Peter and stared at Chris instead. Chris made no move to get near the pair.

"Wait, what now? What's going on? Start from the beginning," the Sheriff bit out when the silence stretched on for too long.

This time, Chris was the one to explain.

"Julia Baccari was just a normal spark, although she  _was_ born into a wolf pack. There's nothing really _special_ about her. She was originally supposed to marry into the Hale pack, actually, several years ago, to one of Talia Hale's cousins, but there was some conflict. She was acting as the emissary to another pack, even though she was only a teenager, but she didn't have the proper training yet. Her spark was completely unstable, and, in an act of passion for her girlfriend and alpha at the time, Kali (who, as you might remember, was part of the alpha pack you ran off), Julia ran away from her pack." _  
_

"So, if she's a spark...wait, what? I still don't get it. Why would she come to Beacon Hills? There's literally nothing here!" Stiles protested.

"If you'd just let him finish..." Peter grumbled under in his breath. Tony seemed amused by the sound of Peter's voice, so he grabbed at Peter's chin, aiming for his mouth. He then became distracted by the stubble and continued to ignore the conversation.

"The Alpha pack drew Kali to New York, a few years back. I assume there was some sort of fall out between the two of them, as no other packs caught sight of the two together after Kali joined the Alphas. But the Monroe pack in Nevada had taken Julia in, pitying her for losing her mate."

"Oh. Who's the Monroe pack? Why haven't we heard of them?" the Sheriff enquired. He was usually consulted before the pack made any connections with other packs. He was their safety net, keeping tabs on possible threats.

Wolf packs were pretty common in North America, too; there were maybe twelve major packs, not including the Hales before the fire, with membership in the fifties. They were pretty close-knit, acting like the United Nations of werewolf packs. They were the council that decided whether a werewolf could be executed or not, and they were usually the ones to communicate with hunters on behalf of their smaller, dependent packs. And there were about thirty or forty small packs, which included the Hales; these usually were close-knit families, usually not having more than twenty members.

Usually, the big packs were the ones who took in omegas and other supernaturals under their protection. And the Monroe pack? Well, Stiles had studied the other packs  _pretty closely_ , as training to become a possible candidate as the Hale emissary, and he had  _never_ heard of them.

"Yes, the Monroe pack. They were always too soft, in my opinion. Talia liked them. They took in almost every small pack, every non-threatening supernatural, without question. It was  _sickening_ ," Peter scoffed.

Chris shot him a look.

"They were a good pack. But taking Julia in was a mistake. She wanted to win Kali back, or so the other packs have said. And she began to leech off their power. Werewolf packs have strength individually, but being social creatures, their magic comes from the pack, as I'm sure you've read in the books. Julia took advantage of that, becoming mated to the young Alpha-to-be, and then she soaked up all their power until they were so weak, a simple spell wiped out two-thirds of their pack."

"Wait, spell? I don't know any spells. Sparks can't use spells. We're just channels for energy," Stiles tried to explain. This was an extremely long-winded story, and he could see that Julia was to blame, but he couldn't make a connection between the events and his own pack.

"That's right. There was dark magic involved. Runes, from Mexico, from the Aztecs. Julia was lucky enough to have been there with Kali long enough to hone in on the remnants of the runes, and now she can manipulate magic into spells. The power of the Monroe pack has been enough to keep her going for the last few years, but now she's running short. She needs more power, and now that she's figured out that you're a spark, she'll draw out the process for as long as she pleases. You can only use your spark to channel the flow of magic in Beacon Hills. Essentially, she's piggybacking off your spark like someone out to mooch your wifi. Your presence doubles, maybe even triples, her powers."

"Oh, great."

"The Kingsley pack suggested that it might be revenge for the Hale pack killing Kali, or maybe for making her run away from her pack in the first place. We're not entirely sure, but the remaining members of the Monroe pack seemed to have a grudge against Peter, so we couldn't stay the whole time," Chris stated, shooting yet another look at Peter.

Peter replied by rolling his eyes in annoyance and saying,"You try to make off with one of their daughters  _once, ten years ago,_ and suddenly everyone—"

Chris cleared his throat, and Peter shifted under his gaze. Tony became annoyed by Peter's fidgeting and raised his arms to Stiles, asking to be picked up. Stiles reacted mechanically, holding Tony so that they were both staring at Peter, too.

"The pup! Tony. We've also found out where he's from," Peter tried to hastily change the subject.

And he succeeded. He definitely had everyone's full attention now.

"Tony? What? How?" the Sheriff asked, befuddled.

Hearing his name by multiple people, Tony started to clap to draw their attention. Stiles quickly became distracted and clapped along with him, causing Peter and the Sheriff to snort.

"Yes," Chris answered,"Tony belongs to Julia's original pack. They were a small family of supernaturals, but following Julia's escape, they were slowly torn apart by hunters and a neighboring pack. Tony is an orphan, and he'd been staying with the Monroe up until they figured out that he was related to Julia. After integrating into the Kingsley pack a few months ago, they had an _ambassador_ drop Tony off in Hale territory, hoping Derek would sort all of this out."

"Even better. Yup, just give the brooding, grumpy Alpha custody of a defenseless orphan," Stiles huffed. Even the  _thought_ of Derek made him want to curl up in bed and puke and eat chocolate ice cream. Maybe not in that order.

Tony sighed angrily, puffing his cheeks when the attention was no longer on him. He patted Stiles's chest, but he finally settled when the Sheriff took him and made silly faces at him. 

And yeah, that was Stiles's life.

 

~

 

"Hey, man. Um, so can you come back? It's just, something weird is going on. The betas keep losing control during sparring, and I can't sleep at all. We haven't seen Derek in days, and Jennifer has been sick. Can you come over and make some food? Sorry for not calling earlier, but things were completely  _crazy_ , and we all just...can you come over?"

The tone cut off, and Stiles was left staring at his phone skeptically. On the one hand, he was really pissed at the pack for acting the way they did about him suspecting Jennifer—Julia—whatever. But on the other hand, they didn't know better. Hell,  _Stiles_ didn't even know, doubting himself every time Jennifer set off the alarms of his spark. And yeah, lesson learned, for the thousandth time: Stiles's spark was  _good_ at these things, okay?

First, though, a battle plan? Stiles really didn't know what he was going to be greeted with, and Scott sounded  _really_ nervous. And if Derek was gone, did that mean Jennifer was about to completely compromise the pack? 

Sighing, Stiles tucked Tony into his little crib before group-messaging his dad, Chris Argent, and Peter. No way in _hell_ was he going into this battle defenseless  _again._

 

~

 

Stiles drove erratically to the Hale house, not even bothering to park neatly before he stormed into the house. He stuffed his keys in his pocket, gripping at the bag of mountain ash mixed with other herbs to steady himself. He inhaled sharply upon entering the common room. 

There, wolfed out and tied up against the wall, were Scott, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. Derek was standing next to them in his Alpha form, growling every time one of them whimpered in pain, ready to attack. When he sensed Stiles's presence, he directed the growl and fangs to Stiles, testing, threatening.

And there, Jennifer stepped out of the kitchen in her high heels and floral skirt and tight blouse. She strutted slowly, confidently, to Stiles, taking her sweet time. The betas flinched at each click of her heels against the hardwood floors. 

"Stiles! _Sweetheart_ , we've been waiting for you! Have a seat," Jennifer greeted him, voice saccharine-sweet.

Derek lunged at him, heading straight for his throat.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer Blake is a typical BH villain. Stiles is a worried mother hen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the awesome feedback, and sorry for the extremely short chapter last time! Here's a longer one! :D

Stiles wasn't ever really  _scared_ of Derek. He never had been, much, even when Derek was only just that creepy guy who buried his dead sister's corpse in his own backyard in the style of a cult-like ritual. Creepy, maybe. But never scary.

Now, though, Stiles was  _terrified._

There was nothing left of Derek, no sense of recognition in his eyes. He'd known that Jennifer had taken over some aspects of the pack, but he'd never imagined that she'd _completely brainwashed_ their Alpha. Well, that would certainly make sense, since the rest of the pack had been relatively normal while they were alone with Stiles. Brainwashed-Derek's Alpha emotion-transfer-thingies must have just amplified through the pack bond, making the rest of the pack a little out of control. None of the betas seemed to know what was going on, either. They all seemed to be confused about what Jennifer was talking about, unsure of Derek's sudden feral behavior.

"No! Derek, that's Stiles! What are you doing?!" Scott lisped through his fangs. 

Jennifer turned and hissed at him, and Scott shut up immediately. It was the first sign of supernatural that they had seen from Jennifer in the two years that she'd been in the pack, and of course they were all surprised.

Of course, Stiles didn't have enough time to process any of that. Derek was still  _this close_ to him.

"Stop," Jennifer commanded casually.

Derek stopped half an inch away from Stiles's throat, claws in the air next to Stiles's head.

"Stand next to me," Jennifer commanded again.

Derek obeyed unquestioningly.

"Show Stiles to his seat."

Derek walked back over to Stiles, grabbing his wrist and pushing him onto the armchair.

What was this? Some sort of power play? This was  _unnatural, Derek is an ALPHA, no one should ever command him to do anything, especially not in front of his pack. He'll look vulnerable to everyone else._

The betas whimpered and cowered away from Derek. Stiles began wringing his hands together, trying to show Jennifer how nervous and small and unassuming he was.

"Jennifer? Jenny? Are you okay?" he asked in faked concern. He couldn't blow his cover now, not when Chris and Peter hadn't arrived as backup yet.

"Oh, drop the act, little spark. You and I are alike. We're connected. Don't you know that the  _minute_ that hunter and his mutt stepped into your house, I  _knew_ what they would tell you? Don't you know that  _I_ was the one who triggered all those alarm bells your spark was telling you? Come on, Derek said you were the clever one in this pack. He was  _so afraid_  that you'd ignore him after he'd told you  _so much_ about himself. And now look what it's come to," Jennifer grinned.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Jenny, Scott said you were feeling a little under the weather, how about we get you to bed?" Stiles replied, trying to ignore the sharp hurt that came from Jennifer bringing up that intimate night. No, she would pay for all of that later. Stiles had plenty of time to get his revenge.

"Shut up! Shut up! There's a pack of werewolves in this room, Stiles, and they can all tell when you're lying. Can't they, Derek?"

Derek grunted in response. And Stiles could only think  _no, that's not the way an Alpha should act, this is so unnatural, make her STOP._

"I'm triggering the spark right now, aren't I? Every time I exert any of the magic to bend the pack to my will. Magic is  _amazing,_ isn't it?"

Stiles didn't respond. He continued looking weak and scared, unsure of how much Jennifer knew about his plan.

"Or not. You must not be a very stable spark, since you weren't suspicious of Scott's call at all. But then again, you haven't talked to the pack much since your little...conversation with Derek, am I right? It wouldn't surprise me if the pack has already broken off their bonds with you; I mean, it would be a shame, since your spark would be more valuable to me if it were more anchored. Oh, well, I guess we can't get everything we want," Jennifer laughed lightly, as if she were at a PTA meeting instead of destroying an entire pack of werewolves.

Stiles wanted to interrupt her, wanted to defend his place in the pack  _so badly_ , but he just had to wait a few more minutes for Chris and Peter to get there. 

"Didn't you think how it was  _weird_ that no one had talked to you? How not even Scott or Erica have texted you, despite being your  _very best friends,_ your  _little puppies?_ Or are you just  _so used to being abandoned—"_

And then Peter crashed into the room, tackling Derek to the ground as Chris took hold of Jennifer. Everything happened  _so fast_ , but Stiles was ready for this. He'd been ready since he'd stepped into the house.

"Sorry to burst your bubble,  _Jenny_ , but I haven't really been  _abandoned_ ," Stiles stated, calmly standing up from the armchair. He strolled casually over to the betas, opening the bag of mountain ash and herbs in pocket.

_I can do this. I'll free the betas, and I'll give them back full autonomy. I'll make Derek snap out of this trance. I'll make Jennifer pay for messing with Derek and our pack. I'm going to MAKE HER PAY._

Immediately, without Stiles even having to pour out the contents of the bag, the betas snapped out of their bonds, reverting back to their human forms. They looked around the room, dazed, as if just now understanding what was happening.

Scott glanced around, assessing the situation, and he quickly turned to Jennifer, completely wolfed out.

"You hurt Stiles!" he growled.

"Actually, Scott, if you want to be specific,  _Derek_ hurt Stiles," she replied smoothly.

"You made him!" Stiles retorted. 

The betas growled in agreement, shifting again. This time, though, they were in complete control and ready to attack.

"Derek," Jennifer cried, voice becoming weak and innocent in all of a second.

_NO. No, that's not going to happen. Derek is MINE, and this is OUR pack, I will NOT let her ruin everything we've built. Derek is going to snap out of this, and we're going to fight Jennifer as a pack. Together._

As if on cue, Derek blinked, eyes becoming clear as he pushed Peter off of him. He looked around in very much the same manner that the betas had, and Stiles was tempted to crack a joke about pack dads and such, but  _now is not the time, seriously, focus._

"Stiles? Who is this?"

Of course, he was still wolfed out and lisping, so it sounded almost unintelligible. Stiles understood him, though.

Chris had tied Jennifer up neatly and seated her on the armchair where Stiles had been sitting before. Jennifer was gaping, mouth opening and closing like a fish. She was too surprised to protest about being restrained. "Oh, I should have guessed. Mates, huh?  _True mates_. How corny. Oh, Stiles, your spark would have been _so_  much sweeter if I'd waited until you were completely cut off from the pack, when I would  _rip it out of your body, decimating your soul, your pack—"_

Derek growled menacingly, coming closer to her and placing his claws  _very very close_ to her throat.

"One more word out of you, and it'll be your last," Derek interjected.

Stiles cleared his throat, head still buzzing from the high of using his spark and reconnecting with his pack. "So, uh, hey, Derek. I'm not really sure what you remember, but this is Jennifer Blake. Or rather, Julia Baccari. Who is a spark and could have been your aunt at one point a long, long time ago. And through some grudges, and us killing her mate Kali—you remember Kali, right?—she decided to harness her power from supernaturals in the Americas by stirring up trouble, like, with the selkies and fae and trolls, I'm guessing. And then she's been here to try to kill me by taking  _my_ spark as revenge for Kali, and brainwashing you for...some grudge against the Hales...?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. 

Chris snorted and knocked her out with a clean hit to the back of the neck. He turned back to Derek and filled in the gaps,"Yes. Killing two birds with one stone. She had quite the grudge against your mother for almost taking her away from her mate. And quite the grudge against Stiles for actually  _killing_ her mate."

Derek's brows furrowed. Stiles almost wanted to laugh from how anticlimactic the whole thing was, how his plan was executed so perfectly. And all because of a little spark that he hadn't even consciously trusted since before today.

Scott also imitated Derek's expression before asking, "Wait, mates are real?"

Peter snorted, picking himself up off the floor. "I'm sure  _Mr. Argent_ would love to tell you all about it," he stated breezily before calmly slitting Jennifer's throat, spilling blood all over the chair. He then picked up the corpse and carried it outside to burn or bury it (Stiles hoped). 

"Stiles, come with me. I'll need a spark to get rid of this," he stated.

Stiles hurried along to avoid the awkward tension slowly filling the room.

 

~

 

When the body was completely gone, Jennifer reduced to only ashes and a sprig of belladonna, Stiles made his way back to the house, Peter following closely behind in wolf form.

"...more of a probability, not an  _exact, set match_ ," Chris said.

"So like me and Boyd. We could have literally dated anyone, but we were just drawn together because we were  _more compatible_?" Erica asked.

"Basically, yes. With werewolves, especially in born wolves, the connections are much clearer, so it works in an almost ' _soulmates'_ sort of way. Except they have options; it's not one person for life," Chris replied.

"Huh, cool," Boyd replied. He and Erica shared a glance at each other. Boyd smiled tightly while Erica grinned, showing off all her teeth.

Stiles didn't want to ruin the moment, but as soon as he stepped through the front door, all the wolves were by his side, scenting him closely and running their hands all over his arms and whatnot.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry, Stiles!"

"You alright?"

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

The betas stepped back a little, taking turns so that each one got a chance to hug him and pat his head and arms and back to make sure he was still undamaged. Stiles didn't realize how much he'd  _missed_ the touch of his pack, all of his friends surrounding him with affection. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! And to think, all I needed to do is believe in myself. What a cliche, huh?"

Scott eyed him warily, almost like he was afraid that Stiles would call him out on his previous behavior towards Stiles's spark. Stiles decided that he would cut his buddy some slack; besides, he was pretty sure Jennifer's mind control thing had some part in making Scott the way he was.

Derek was the last one to step forward, embracing Stiles with both arms and nuzzling into Stiles's neck comfortably. Stiles was definitely take aback, since even before  _that night_ , they'd never quite reached this level of intimacy.

"We need to talk," Derek mumbled softly so that only Stiles could hear.

"Later."

"Okay."

And that was that.

 

~

 

Stiles was exhausted, yeah, but he was pretty sure that the betas were more overwhelmed than he was. Especially since, you know, they'd been second-hand brainwashed by a crazy spark for two years.

So while Stiles was ready to go take a nap with Tony back at his apartment, he still drudged up enough energy to make a late dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread for the pack, as well as Chris and Peter. And it was fine, since cooking was kind of his thing with the pack, and without the tension in the air, he was much more at ease to take cook whatever he wanted in the humongous kitchen. 

It was comforting to do something so routine. And yeah, he made Alfredo sauce for Isaac, who didn't really like anything with tomatoes, and the garlic bread was toasted  _just right_ for Boyd, and everyone else just kind of hung around, helping out with whatever. It was pretty amazing.

And then Stiles's phone rang.

"Stiles? Stiles, are you okay? You said you'd call, but...Hello?" his dad asked.

Oh, oops. Hm.

"Heya, Dad! It's fine, it's over, everyone's okay now. Do you wanna come over? I made spaghetti! With extra meat sauce and meatballs! You should bring Tony, too, 'cuz if he naps too long, you'll never get him to go down tonight. Er, wait, it's past his bedtime. Um. See you in a bit, Dad!"

That could've gone better, yes, but he also  _really_ wanted his dad there with the pack.

They were just done setting the plates when the Sheriff slammed the front door open, Tony on his hip as they both looked around frantically for Stiles. Once they spotted him, the Sheriff rushed over to him.

"God, you said you'd call as soon as it was over, and we waited for four _hours_ , do you understand how long that is? And are you just now eating dinner?! Jesus Christ!" 

The Sheriff gave his son a hug—a  _real_ hug, with both arms as he handed Tony over to Peter—and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Never do that again, do you hear me? If anything happens, you call me  _right away_. I'm supposed to take care of you, I can't just let some witch  _rip you apart_. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Stiles replied dutifully. And yeah, he was overwhelmed, and maybe that was him sobbing from finally processing that this lady he'd been suspicious of for the past two years was  _actually planning to kill him by ripping his soul and body into pieces_. 

Tony sensed the changes in the room. He was already looking a lot better from the hypotonia and the cold at Stiles's apartment, but now, reunited with a  _pack_ , he looked like he was  _thriving,_  despite having an extremely strange day.And Stiles was impressed. Hypotonia wasn't something you could just  _get better_ from. Huh. _Must've been Jennifer Blake_ , he concluded.

And then they all sat down, like a proper pack, like a proper  _family_ , and ate their spaghetti. 

 

~

 

The betas took over with cleaning up, since Stiles had cooked and Chris and the Sheriff were their guests. So that somehow led to Stiles being in the nursery with Derek, both of them looking over Tony as he slept.

"Can we talk?" Derek asked tentatively.

"We're talking now," Stiles attempted to be casual. 

Derek raised a brow in response. 

"Yeah, okay, sorry."

Derek sighed deeply before starting,"I don't remember a lot of it, you know. Just patches. Mostly when you were with me, and I couldn't control myself. God, the things I said to you last time, I just—I'm sorry, okay? I couldn't control myself—"

"Dude! Literally, you were being  _brainwashed_. Don't apologize, I totally get it. We're cool," Stiles tried.

"Not just last time. After _that night_ , too. I'm sorry I left you and ignored you like that. I just...Look, you've learned about mates during your training with Deaton, right? Or you've at least read it in the books? I think...It's a bit soon, but I think we have a good chance at it. I think we might be—compatible. You know so much about me, about our pack, and you've basically already been the den mother—I know it sounds rushed and weird, but. It just feels...You just feel _right_. Well, would you consider it? Just a courting ritual, to test the waters? I know it's been two years, and a lot's happened, and I'll understand if you don't want to do it, but..." Derek trailed off, and they both looked at their feet awkwardly. Tony kicked his feet in the air and grunted loudly in his sleep.

_It HAS been awhile. But this is what I've been waiting for, this is what feels natural. And it's just a trial, right? Just courting, not mating. Not yet._

"Sure. Let's give it a try."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, it'll just be fluff! Maybe some jealous Derek, but definitely more pack mom Stiles! XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wooing Stiles. Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! They are VERY MUCH appreciated! :)
> 
> Also, the wooing chapter will be split into two parts! The next chapter will be up in 2-3 days!
> 
> Enjoy!

Because their talk was so short, Stiles had automatically assumed that the courting ritual—wooing, whatever— would also be very short and informal. Maybe a coffee date here or there, catching a movie together on the weekends, maybe a pack dinner or two where they would slowly break it to the pack that they would be together. And maybe, when they'd both come home from work super tired, they could just lay around and chill together with Tony. Because he was their baby now, right? And maybe one day, a couple years from now, they would have a mating ceremony and tie the knot.

Clearly, Deaton's lessons hadn't prepared Stiles very well at all. 

First, it was just small, insignificant things. Whenever he cooked for the pack (which was way more regularly these days), Derek would always be right behind him, ready to grab whatever Stiles needed. And the kitchen would always be stocked full with ingredients that Stiles had commented _very subtly_ that he would like to experiment with. Like the millets for the banana bread. Or the garbanzo beans for a salad. Personally, Stiles thought it was kind of cute. He was pretty impressed.

Before, with  _Jennifer (yes he could definitely say her name without flinching now)_ , Derek had avoided the kitchen at all costs. He and Jennifer would always be in their room, avoiding the kitchen whenever Stiles cooked or baked for the pack. At the time, Stiles had chalked it up to Derek having too many bittersweet memories about the old Hale family. According to Deaton, they'd been  _really close_.And then, after they cleared the house of all traces of belladonna, Stiles had found  _an entire jar of mountain ash_ that he'd kept for those just-in-case scenarios. That probably explained why Jennifer was so careful to stay out of Stiles's kitchen—and Derek, too.

Now, though, whenever Stiles so much as  _walked in the direction of the kitchen_ , Derek would be close behind, usually with one or two betas trailing after him. Stiles was fine with that—Derek and the Betas were very helpful with cleaning and chopping vegetables. Speaking of which—

"Hey, dude, whaddya think about grilled chicken? Since we already have the grill fired up for the asparagus, and I'm already whipping up these mashed potatoes—"

"Anything is fine, Stiles," Derek grumbled. He was trying to feed a banana to a very grumpy, very annoyed Tony who didn't want to go down for his nap.

Tony was staying at the Hale house today. In the few days after their talk, Derek and Stiles had decided to still live apart until they could settle down a little, get used to each other. Stiles hadn't been _quite_ comfortable enough to be in Derek's space every hour of the day, so they'd compromised that Stiles would spend as much time as he wanted at the Hale house, but he'd still go back to his apartment every night to sleep. Tony alternated between staying with one of them every few days, since he needed to become socialized with the pack. All in all, it worked pretty well, so far.

"But can we have meatloaf? Please? With no tomatoes?" Isaac asked hopefully from where he was trimming asparagus spears.

"Meatloaf? Anyone else for meatloaf?" Stiles surveyed. It wouldn't be difficult; he'd just save the chicken for one of the days when he worked late.

"MEATLOAF? Your meatloaf? Me! I'm in! You have to make meatloaf, I'm not gonna eat the asparagus," Erica piped up. She was already halfway to the fridge, already gathering ingredients for meatloaf.

"I'll take meatloaf," Boyd hummed in agreement. He was currently trying to soothe Tony enough to make the kid either take a nap or eat the banana.

Stiles thought that Boyd was doing a better job of trying to feed Tony than Derek was, but that might've just been Tony acting like a spoiled brat. Seriously, Tony knew that Stiles and Boyd were the only ones who wouldn't give in to his whining, so he was very obedient with them. Tony  _definitely_ knew that he had Derek wrapped around his little finger, so despite acknowledging Derek as Alpha, Tony almost always whined and acted up around Derek, and Derek would always, _always_ give in. That didn't bode well for Tony's behavior later, but it was pretty hilarious now.

"Meatloaf it is!" Stiles concluded, and set to work marinading the beef. Yum, meat.

By then, Tony was starting to droop a little, so Derek picked him up and carried him to Stiles. Stiles kissed the little toddler on the head before Derek took him back to the nursery. 

"Awwww, it never gets old! You guys are so  _cute_!" Erica squealed.

Stiles blushed, mumbling a slight "Shut up..." and returned to preparing the meatloaf.

Thankfully, Erica had the decency not to gush over his blush.

 

~

 

That was all cutesy and adorable, and Stiles was starting to get used to the courting rituals. He liked that Derek was spending more time around him, and he liked the feeling of having the pack on his side again. And Tony was getting better, slowly but surely—it was all just so  _domestic_ , and Stiles could definitely get used to living like this.

And then came the stag.

Dead stag. 

It wasn't anywhere near his apartment, thank  _god,_ but it was in the yard of the Hale house, staring beadily up at Stiles from where it lay next to the steps to the front door. 

Stiles was over blood and gore now. After all that time running with the wolves and getting into all kinds of trouble, it definitely wasn't too hard to become desensitized. And then his job as an ER scribe in Beacon Hills? Yeah,  _definitely_ over the blood and gore. Besides, this wasn't the weirdest thing he'd seen. Not even close.

But still, a dead animal? That was  _unsanitary_ , if nothing else. What if the betas poked it because they were being cheeky little shits again? What if it made Tony sick? And the food? How did that thing even  _get_ that close to the Hale house without being scared away by the wolves?

"Do you like it? I know you were trying to change up your recipes a little bit," Derek said, appearing from behind the house. He was holding Tony in one arm, and Tony seemed unfazed by the dead stag. 

And that was true, Stiles  _did_ want to change up some of his classic recipes. By which he meant visiting the farmer's market that had opened at the start of the summer and checking out all the local produce and spices. But if Derek and his pack wanted to try some new game, Stiles was okay with that...right after he stopped mentally gagging at the thought of the  _dead stag_ staring beadily up at him through its dead eyes. Which, ugh.

"Venison, huh? Maybe some burgers...stew? And a roast? Or we can just grill it up or fry it, whatever you guys want to do," Stiles replied thoughtfully after a few tense minutes. "Thanks, dude. It means a lot."

Which was also true. If this was how Derek wanted to court him, that was fine. The Alpha could provide for the whole pack. Stiles could live with that. After yearning for this for so long, Stiles couldn't find it in himself to be fussy.

Derek nodded in return, then stepped closer to Stiles. He sniffed discreetly at Stiles's throat, and they were both leaning in for a possible kiss, when—

"Ba! Si! Sti!" 

Tony had leaned over and leapt rather ungracefully into Stiles's arms. Once there, he patted Stiles's cheek a couple times, as if asking for Stiles's undivided attention. Derek snorted, but gestured for Stiles to keep looking at the baby.

"Da! Sti!" Tony babbled happily, showing Stiles a squirming, frantic baby squirrel in his hand.

"He caught the squirrel himself. It was lost, and I think he wanted to show it to you before he returned it," Derek explained. Then, he turned over to Tony and grabbed the squirrel. "We have to let him go back to his Papa and Stiles, okay? Here, come with me."

And then Derek took Tony, both of them trying to find the squirrel's home by sniffing the air and walking around the yard.

Stiles couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face until he heard Boyd's snort of laughter from one of the open windows.

 

~

 

"I'm sorry, man, but you can't come over this week! Stiles—"

Stiles hung up the phone, frustrated. He'd been trying to call about scheduling a possible barbecue with the venison patties he'd found a recipe for. He was super excited, and wasn't this what Derek wanted? For them to be together, for Stiles to be the doting maternal figure to the rest of the betas? What was going on?

Every time he'd tried calling one of the betas so far, they all sounded exhausted, out of breath. But as far as Stiles knew, there wasn't any sort of Big Bad in town. One of the Betas usually told him if there was, or his spark would be going crazy again. 

Or maybe...was it Derek? Was this another Jennifer Blake situation? Stiles thought they'd been doing pretty well. After the thing with the stag, they'd gone back to their usual hanging out and cuddling for a couple of days. Then, Stiles went to work one night at the hospital one night, sat in at the clinic for a couple of hours the next day, and then bam. Radio silence from the wolves. 

Sure, for the past week, one of them would offer to take care of Tony while he was working, and they still hung out with him individually. But not Derek. And wasn't that just confusing?

Stiles sighed heavily, feeding Tony some of the new carrot-curry baby food he'd tried to make. So far, Tony was sending him mixed signals: a frown at the first mouthful, with extreme prejudice against the smell, but then he'd eaten every other spoonful so far with no complaint—he was almost done with a whole bowl. 

"Hey, little buddy, you gotta work with me, here. Do you like it? 'Cuz if you do, the next time we have Thai night at the Hale house, we can make you some more spicy stuff. And you can try the really sweet Thai tea, too, if any of your aunts and uncles ever decide to  _text me back_."

Tony grumbled a little in response to Stiles's annoyed tone. Stiles was glad  _someone_ had his back.

"Aw, the little pup likes Thai curry."

And that was—Peter? Ugh, why him?

"Nice to see you, too, Stiles."

"Yeah, yeah, where's your boyfriend? Aren't you guys spending some time  _bonding_ or whatever?"

Peter's smile turned tight in disdain. "Chris is visiting Allison. He wanted to break the news to her without me there, to avoid any conflict," he replied carefully. Peter was still always distant from the pack, never letting any of them in too close, so it was nice that he could at least open up to Stiles every once in a while. Pack unity and all that.

Stiles nodded as Tony sniffed the air. Recognizing Peter, he threw his arms in the air, begging to be let out of the highchair.

"Hi, pup. Yes, someone's  _certainly_ missed me," Peter cooed. They scent-marked each other, which was a blend of cute and creepy. Tony didn't seem to be bothered that Peter barely smelled like pack; if anything, he was trying to get Peter to smell  _more_ like pack.

"So, uh. Have you heard anything from the pack about why I can't go to the house? You like foiling their plans, right? Tell me!" Stiles demanded, flailing both arms awkwardly and kind of pointing accusingly at Peter.

"Hm, yes, the new Hale house," Peter rolled his eyes. "If you're so curious, why not go visit them yourself? I  _swear_ it couldn't hurt."

Stiles regarded him suspiciously, but he decided that Peter was right. After all, they'd been having a good month, so why shouldn't he visit? 

But what if there really _was_ something dangerous that the pack was hiding from him? He didn't exactly want to bring Tony straight into a potential danger zone, and his dad was at work—

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed in exaggerated annoyance. " _I'll_ watch the pup. We'll stay here, and I  _promise_ not to get into any trouble." _  
_

Tony seemed pretty content to babble incoherently at Peter, frequently smacking the older werewolf with both of his palms in his excitement, and Peter seemed to be pretty fine just nodding along and adding "Oh, really?" and "Yes, I think so, too" commentary in reply to Tony. So Stiles was okay with them staying together for now. He would just run over to the Hale house to see what they were hiding from him this time.

It would only take a few minutes to check up on them anyway, right?

Famous. Last. Words.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wooing Stiles. Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome feedback! I'm super glad you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> Hope this one lives up to your expectations!

"What. What is even going on anymore?" Stiles asked in bewilderment, stumbling to lean against his Jeep.

Derek sighed in much the same way Peter had earlier, covering his face with one of his hands. The one that wasn't currently holding a power drill.

There was the new Hale house that had been rebuilt along with the Hale pack: it was symbolic of how much they'd all grown to like each other. Yeah, it was tainted in places because Jennifer Blake had been a part of the pack then, but it was still  _theirs._ Scott and Derek finally having a civil conversation at the foot of the stairs in the foyer, Erica and Boyd hooking up in the family room, Isaac helping Stiles in the kitchen. The new Hale house might not have lived up to the grandeur of the old one (which, _duh_ , it was built by a bunch of college students, and only one of them was pursuing a degree in architecture), but it certainly held enough cherished and bittersweet memories of blood, sweat, and tears on its own. 

And now all that was in its place was a bunch of wood, bricks, and plans.

"You weren't supposed to stop by for awhile. Scott was supposed to stall you," came Derek's tired reply. He still hadn't moved his hand from his face yet.

"Yeah, he did, but. What. Why is—? Where's the house?" Stiles stammered. Where was he gonna cook and bake for the pack? Where were they even  _staying_?  Stiles knew that the betas and Peter lived here permanently, so how were they handling pack meetings?

"We're rebuilding. It's—It's part of the courting, Stiles."

"Oh."

And that was when it hit Stiles how  _important_ the courting was. This was  _for real, the real deal_ , permanent. Derek was serious about this. About  _him_.

"So this is, like, some sort of nesting instinct? Are you building our den? I thought the new house—the old house—ugh, the one that you guys just tore down—was the den? Why are you rebuilding it?" Stiles asked hysterically, making himself even more confused than before.

"The old one was when...when  _she_ was here. She picked out a lot of the plans, and it was personalized to her liking. And I know we removed all the belladonna, but just to be safe...Anyway. So now we're rebuilding it to your preferences. Boyd drew out the floors for us, and Erica said she would furnish and decorate when we were done building," Derek explained. Then, he scowled. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It _is_ a surprise! I'm VERY surprised! But, like, in a good way!" Stiles's nose wrinkled as he tried to consider the cost of rebuilding, refurnishing, and all of that good stuff. He couldn't see any traces of the old furniture. "But you know that you don't have to spend that much money on me, right?"

"But I want to. And it's for all of us, the pack, too. We don't want to be reminded of her."

"Oh, um. Okay. Cool. Thanks?"

Before either of them could say anything more awkward or embarrassing, Erica barreled her way to Stiles, frowning determinedly.

"Stiles! You aren't supposed to be here! It's a surprise!" 

"Aw, Catwoman, I just missed you too much," Stiles replied, giving her a half-hug. No offense to any of them, but choosing midday, midsummer as a time for construction was just  _not_ a smart idea, and so they were all sweaty and grimy, although Erica somehow managed to still look awesome.

Oh wait! They'd been ignoring him for the past  _week_!

Shrugging off any traces of awe and excitement left, Stiles stepped away from both Derek and Erica, crossing his arms. After two years of his warnings about Blake being ignored, and then they'd gone and ignored him again?

Nuh-uh, no siree, not on his watch.

"I get that this is supposed to be a surprise and all, but don't you think you could've told me that? Instead of making me worry half to death that something had brainwashed you guys again?" Stiles huffed angrily. He almost wanted to tap his foot as he waited for an explanation.

Derek winced, and Erica ducked her head in shame. 

"Stiles, no! It was supposed to be a good surprise, I had everything planned out! We were gonna finish this within a month or two, and Derek was gonna take you out on a date when everything was ready, and he was gonna bring you here! It was gonna be  _so cute_!" Erica protested.

"A couple of months? You guys would have kept me from here for a couple of  _months_?!" Stiles hissed, bewildered. 

"Well, we would have met up around town. And you've been working so much, and only visiting on the weekends. It was just, we  _really_ wanted to surprise you. It was supposed to be a big apology for everything that happened with—with Jennifer," Erica replied earnestly.

Derek remained suspiciously quiet, choosing not to look at Stiles.

"Well, fine. You guys are off the hook, for _now_. And if you'd told me about rebuilding the house earlier, I would've been here to help!" Stiles answered; Erica looked like she was going to interject, but Stiles held up his hands before she could say anything. "And I have a new book on wards against negative spirits, and I think I can tailor it to the pack's needs. I would just need to work with Peter for a few days, see which runes the old Hale pack used against intruders."

Derek looked up sharply. "You would do that for us?"

"Well, yeah! It's my pack, too, you know. And Deaton and I talked about how your mom had really badass runes around the entire Preserve, and since I know he's not gonna help us any more than that, I was thinking that I could ask Peter if he knew about any of the protection spells. We'll just adjust it for everyone who's in the pack now," Stiles explained easily.

And then he noticed how Derek looked like he  _absolutely wanted to make out with Stiles in front of the pack_ , and Erica must have seen that look, too, because she ran to help Boyd and Scott right before Derek lunged towards Stiles. Yay, 200-pound werewolf boyfriend hanging off of him. That was cute.

"Ugh, you're all sweaty and gross!" Stiles joked, shoving Derek away playfully.

And they both grinned at each other like lovesick _idiots_ (Erica's words exactly).

 

~

 

Stiles came by whenever he could placing runes in every nook and cranny, walking around the Preserve for a feel of what might be a threat to the pack. As the house came closer to being finished, Stiles started to branch out to the edges of the territory, creating a "fence" around them to check for intruders. Without any help (except a few pointers from Peter about what the old Hale house had), Stiles was  _super_ proud of what he'd done.

Now, nearing the end of summer, the house was done. Well, structurally, it was done. Decorating and furnishing-wise? Nope. Erica had decided that this was something they  _had_ to surprise Stiles with. Stiles would've been okay with no more surprises, but he wasn't really too big on interior decorating, anyway—that was more of Erica and Isaac's thing. As long as the place didn't turn out to be too creepy-looking (like his first impression of the burnt Hale house), he would've been just fine with whatever. Seriously, just take a look at his tiny, messy little apartment of books.

Thus, for the next _month_ , Stiles tried to immerse himself in work at the hospital, part-time filling in for the little clinic, and looking up new recipes for when he finally had access to the pack kitchen again. It was long and torturous.

Even stranger, though, was the fact that  _Derek_ didn't seem to be spending more time with Stiles. It bothered him a lot for the first week or so, but it gave him the space he needed to accept that this was _really happening_. Just, all of it, with the courting and the wooing and the baby. He'd gotten updates from Scott and Isaac that the Alpha was helping Erica pick out things for the house, and that they had just finished painting the entire interior of the house a few days ago. The last time Stiles had seen Erica, she was ranting about flow of color, continuity, and something about color palettes for each of the rooms. Derek had scrunched his brows up in obvious attention, so Stiles had just let them be.

So now, after an 8-hour shift in the ER, Stiles was very relaxed, listening to Derek's baby stories as told by Uncle Peter. Stiles and Tony were both entranced.

And that was another thing: werewolf bodyguards. Or whatever. Because apparently, even though the pack was still  _extremely_ wary of Peter on their bad days, they still trusted his experience and skills enough to let him watch over Stiles while they were finishing up the house. So while Chris was still in France with Allison for the next few weeks, Peter came over to Stiles's apartment any time the Sheriff wasn't there (and sometimes even when he  _was_ there), even if only to help Stiles manage Tony.

"Derek was never a fan of pants—or diapers, for that matter. Laura and Cora were more mischievous, by far, and much louder. Derek, though, was always the quiet one. So whenever Talia wasn't looking, especially in the summer or near a full moon, Derek would just drop his pants in the nearest corner. Noah and I used to joke that Derek was the 'Silent Stripper' because he turned it into a game. No matter how many times Talia told him he couldn't do it, he would just turn around and pants himself as soon as she was done," Peter recounted.

Stiles laughed loudly, and Tony looked at both of them curiously from his position leaning against the sofa. He grinned up at Stiles and, upon receiving a positive response, beamed at Peter, too. 

"No way! When did he—when did he finally stop?" Stiles asked between laughs.

"It wasn't until the winter when he turned 2 years old that he seemed to catch on that he would freeze to death without his clothes. He was also rather  _bad_ at controlling his wolf, so he couldn't shift just to keep himself warm," Peter replied easily, nostalgically.

Tony laughed as if he actually understood what Peter was saying.

"Yes, that's right, pup! He was even  _worse_ at shifting than you are! Yes, you're Uncle Peter's perfect little pup," Peter joked with Tony, poking the toddler on the nose. Tony's answering smile was a mix of amused and flattered, and wasn't that just  _adorable_?!

"Peeet! Puh-pee," Tony babbled in reply.

Just as Stiles was reaching for his phone to snap a picture of them, the doorbell rang. And that was curious: everyone in the pack knew that it was already nearing Tony's bedtime. Jumping up to answer the door, Stiles glanced at Peter for any warnings.

"Oh, it's Derek. I'll take the pup to bed, hm?" Before Stiles could respond, Peter was already lifting Tony into his arms and heading to the crib.

When Stiles opened the door expecting a tired Derek (most likely worn out from Erica's strict orders), he was pleasantly surprised to see Derek standing there in a nice tux with a bouquet of roses.

"Hi—um, hey, dude," Stiles stammered. Because no one should be that distracting in a fitted tux.

"Good evening, Stiles. The roses are for you. I know you've had a long shift, and I know you haven't had a chance to eat yet. So I was wondering if, um, since Peter can watch over Tony tonight, if you would—if you'd go to dinner with me?" 

"Sure! Yeah, sure! Just let me get ready, okay? It'll take, like, ten minutes, tops."

Derek nodded, and they both entered the apartment.

As Stiles ran around pulling on his nicest clothes, Peter laughing at him the whole time, they managed a nice little chat about the new house.

"So, how's the house? Is Queen Erica still very strict about what's allowed to be in the pack house?" Stiles asked, fixing his tie.

"Erica, yes, I like her. She's got an eye for the nicer things in life. Spunky little girl, too," Peter drawled.

"Everything actually looks  _really_ good. It sounded weird when she was trying to explain how everything would fit, but now it looks nice. That's why, er, that's actually why I'm here so late. We just finished the whole house, so now I'm here to take you out to dinner, and then we'll visit the house together. Erica couldn't wait until tomorrow," Derek admitted fondly.

"Whoa, you guys are done? I was expecting another two weeks!"

"No, I got everything shipped on the fastest dates, and Erica seemed to know her way around a home decor outlet. She said to take you out to a nice dinner, and then come back to the house for the 'unveiling,' or something like that."

"That's my Erica," Stiles sighed, fixing his hair a little. "Well, let's do this! Where are we going?"

And then he was in the nice, flashy Camaro, on his way to some upscale restaurant in Beacon City.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has a little ~interlude~ for Chris and Peter in the first half, right before we get to the dinner! I have a HUGE surprise for you guys! I'm so excited!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Peter try to talk it out (and fail). And then, The Big Surprise (with a side of jealous!Derek)!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments!!!!! I'm so glad you guys enjoy reading this as much as I am writing it! Also, thanks for bearing with me as I update at the pace of a very sluggish snail.

In retrospect, this was probably the worst thing that could have happened. 

And no, that wasn't including the fire, or the coma, or even dying and being resurrected. Nope. 

It wasn't even having to be saved from a bunch of hostile werewolves whom he'd believed would still side with the Hale pack despite the change in leadership. 

No, it was having to be saved by an  _Argent_.  _Chris Argent._  As in, the only hunter left in Beacon Hills. And since the wonderful, noble Christopher Argent had decided to swoop in while Peter was still chained up in a basement, now all the  _other_ werewolves would think that Peter was a damsel in distress. That was infinitely worse than any Alpha-inflicted injury or burns from the fire.

James Monroe had been there, as well as his wife, Anna, and second-in-command, Ellisa Harrison. And yeah, Peter definitely had some beef with Ellisa before the fire, and Talia had been  _extremely_ cautious with James, but they were still sort-of allies. In the event of a territory dispute, an ambassador from the allied pack would fly over to the other pack for support. That was the deal before the fire, and Peter had been hopeful that it would still stand even after the fire.

He definitely  _wasn't_  expecting to get jumped by all the betas in one go, before he could even ask about Jennifer Blake or missing babies. And he really didn't think being  _chained up and clawed_ was a really nice way to greet an ally you hadn't seen in almost a decade. So, it wasn't the  _worst_ thing he'd endured, but also, it was pretty exhausting. Like their Alpha, all the betas of the Morrison pack were  _dreadfully_ dull and bone-headed. For once, Peter actually  _almost missed_ his gnarly little pack in Beacon Hills.

And then, of course, three days into his imprisonment, _Argent_ had swooped in to save the day. He'd gotten rid of the shocks and the chains, and within two minutes, Peter was sitting in the back seat of Argent's car, sleeping away as they were chased by Monroe's remaining betas.

How  _embarrassing_.

 

 

~

 

 

The next time Peter came to, Argent was facing off with two of the betas: a dark, muscular man and a petite blonde girl. And naturally, even if the betas both ended up dying, Peter couldn't let them think he was so weak that he needed to be rescued by a  _hunter_.

Hell no. 

So he jumped into action from his place in the car, ripping the girl apart before the male beta jumped on his back, tearing at Peter's still-healing wounds. Which,  _ouch_ , those were from a fucking  _Alpha_.

Before he could turn around to claw at the beta on top of him, the other werewolf went completely slack against Peter and then slid off of him. Peter spotted an arrow firmly lodged into the other wolf's back. 

Chris Argent lowered his arms and nodded at Peter, who still couldn't look at the hunter's face.

"You'll need to rest up if you want those to heal. I'm taking you to Stiles's house; we're already more than halfway there," Chris stated, daring Peter to challenge him.

Peter couldn't help but stare at the hunter. He wouldn't submit  _now._

Stiles's house? Sure. Thank God that Argent had enough sense not to take them to the Hale house. There was no way he was ready to face off Jennifer Blake with all his wounds. They would need Stiles to do that.

 

 

~

 

 

After the completely disappointing showdown, Peter had been  _tired._ So he really couldn't be blamed when a certain hunter decided to push him against a wall and smash their lips together. And he couldn't be blamed for kissing the hunter instead of pushing him back.

Really. It wasn't a big deal. 

Neither was them crashing against Argent's car, driving to Argent's home  _way_ above the speed limit, barely opening the door and entering the house before their clothes were completely gone.

And if Peter _cuddled_  the hunter in between rounds of awesome fucking? Or discovered that he quite liked being the little spoon right before they drifted off together? Well, he  _was_ just tortured by another pack for several days. It was neither of their faults. 

It was actually pretty nice.

 

 

~

 

 

The next morning was nowhere near as awkward as Peter expected it to be.

Chris had already gotten out of bed to make breakfast, so Peter leisurely checked his phone for any messages overnight. Only one: Stiles apparently needed a babysitter for Tony, since the Sheriff had a full day of work and Stiles himself needed to take an extra shift at the hospital. Peter decided that yes, he really  _did_ like to spend time with the little werewolf baby, if only because it reminded him of his days as the favorite uncle before the fire. Of course, he would never admit to that; no one needed to know. 

He shot Stiles a quick "sure" before he entered the kitchen, where Chris was setting the table with plates of pancakes (mint chocolate chip), sausage, and bacon. Lots of bacon. Maybe that made the hunter more attractive. Just a little.

So they had breakfast together before driving over to Stiles's apartment to take care of Tony. And it was fine, just perfect, actually. Stiles had been in too much of a rush to be surprised by the sight of them together (and by together, Peter meant ruffled hair, Peter wearing Chris's sweater, and all of that good stuff) so they were left alone with each other and the baby.

And then, with the talk of children in the air, Chris had brought up Allison, and how she'd probably be oh-so-surprised, and maybe he and Peter should take a little bit of a break, let the nature of their relationship sink in for a few weeks? Yeah,  _that_ was gonna help.

Before Peter could argue against any kind of a break, though, Tony, who seemed to sense that something wasn't right about the scents in the room, fussed angrily at Peter and spit out half of the mashed sweet potatoes. When neither Chris nor Peter responded immediately, too caught up in staring (glaring) at each other, Tony had let out the fiercest battle cry he could manage. Chris was startled into breaking eye contact, and he quickly stood up, leaving abruptly.

And so Peter was left to babysit the irate little werewolf cub alone. The irate little werewolf cub who was now smearing the remnants of his spit-up onto Peter's shirt, grumbling when Peter wouldn't clean both of them right away.

Oh, well. One of them would have to break first.

 

 

~

 

 

The restaurant was  _nice._ Classy.  _Expensive_.

As in, Stiles took one look at the menu and didn't want to look at those numbers again. 

But Derek looked like he knew what he was doing, ordering wine and asking Stiles what he wanted to eat. And that was cool, Derek narrowing the intimidating menu down to four choices for him. Derek also even promised him  _dessert._

"Thank you for dining with us this evening! We have our seasonal cranberry-nectarine salad and ciabatta bread with an herb paste  _right here_ ," the server said, putting the plates in front of them very delicately. His hand brushed against Stiles's briefly as he tried to maneuver everything in the right place on the table. "Are you ready to order, sir?"

Oh. And he was looking  _straight at Stiles_ , even though Derek was clearly the one who knew what was going on. Stiles was stuck stuttering for a few seconds, completely forgetting what he was going to order, until Derek finally cleared his throat pointedly. Still, the waiter stared at Stiles for  _at least_ another ten seconds before turning to Derek to get their orders.

Wow, yeah, way to rub in that Stiles definitely  _didn't_ belong in this kind of a setting.

When the waiter finally left, Stiles huffed irritably to Derek, earning a raised brow and half a scowl in response. "Ugh, that was so  _embarrassing_! It's like he was trying to point out how much I'm  _not_ fit for you!" Stiles grumbled.

" _You're_ not good for  _me_?" Derek asked. Both of his eyebrows had gone up, now.

"Well, yeah! Didn't you see the way that guy kept staring at me? And he kept talking to me, even though I totally look like I don't know what's going on! God, that was so  _rude_!" Stiles replied, flailing both of his arms for emphasis. A couple of the other patrons looked over inquisitively.

Amazingly, Derek sighed in annoyance, as if  _he_ were the one who'd just been humiliated. "Stiles, that's not what just happened. And you look fine, we both look fine. That waiter was...checking you out."

What? No way, not when a piece of fine real estate named Derek Hale was sitting across from him in a tux.

"Nice to know you think of me as real estate."

"Yeah, your ass is all I care about in this relationship. That's definitely all I want from you," Stiles laughed nervously.

 "Hey, you know that you're amazing, right? If anything,  _I_ don't deserve  _you_ ," Derek replied softly, slowly, like he was talking to some kind of startled woodland creature. Which was hilarious, considering Derek was pretty high up there on the list of predators.

"Dude, that's—I just. Look, it's been really messed up since that time with the—" arm flail "and when we were doing that, uh, thing that night—" another arm flail "—and with Blake, and it's been, like, you know?" 

And of course Derek looked confused. It sounded so messed up, and Stiles didn't even know half of what he just said. It made more sense when he was thinking it. It was the first time they'd really sat down to talk about their situation beyond the courting rituals, and honestly, it'd been  _so long_ and, wow, they had a  _long way to go_.

"Look, we're gonna be okay. If the whole thing with— _Blake_ —never happened, we would've had our mating ceremony as soon as you graduated from undergrad. We're good, okay," Derek asked, leaning across the table to grasp Stiles's hand.

"Yeah, okay. Wait, mating ceremony?"

Before Derek could reply, the waiter had returned with their orders. Once again, he brushed against Stiles's arm and completely ignored Derek. And it was kind of amusing, now that Stiles knew what was going on—Derek was practically  _seething_.

"We'll talk more about it when we get home," Derek assured. The waiter glared at him discreetly.

"Oh, okay."

Home. He liked the sound of that.

 

~

 

"Oh, god, he just wouldn't stop _looking_ at you," Derek growled, grasping at Stiles's hips as he pushed him against the Camaro.

"Uh, yeah, that's cool," Stiles tried to answer. He failed epically because they were _making out_ now, and Derek's stubble was  _distracting_. His hands were another story  _entirely_.

"Let's—let's, uh, get into the car. We can keep going when we get _home_ ," Stiles managed to breathe out.

Derek kept kissing at Stiles's throat maybe even more intensely for another minute before they collected each other and entered the car. As Derek pulled out of the parking lot, Stiles finally remembered the whole _mating ceremony_ thing.

"So, uh, mating ceremony?"

"Yeah, mating ceremony."

"Wanna...tell me some more about it?"

"It's basically a marriage, but more, well, respected. More powerful and sacred. It's the last of the courting rituals, and it's to bind the two mates to each other."

"Oh. For life?"

"Yeah. For life."

"Oh, cool."

 

~

 

The new Hale house was  _beautiful_. Where the old Hale house—the first one they'd built—was practical and _not quite_ a looker, this house was classy and regal-looking and spacious for the whole pack—and more.

Even from the outside, the architecture looked  _phenomenal_. Stiles could really tell that Boyd was  _definitely_ proud of his blueprints and how everything worked out. The landscaping finally replaced the mess of sawdust and crunchy leaves, and the effect was  _amazing_. The curtains on the windows were drawn, but the blinds let out only a little bit of warm, golden light from where Stiles thought the old kitchen would have been.

"This is it," Derek stated once he parked the Camaro and opened the door for Stiles.

Stiles wanted to tell him how  _miraculous_ he thought it was that all of them could rebuild the house (and furnish it!) in such a short amount. He also wanted to fawn over the adorable porch swing in the wrap-around porch, or the artful floral wreath on the front door. But when he went to say all of those things, the only words he could form were, "Uh—house—porch— _flowers_ " before Derek chuckled and opened the front door, saving him from any further humiliation.

"Welcome home, Stiles."

And yeah, it  _was_ home. It didn't give off that edgy feel that the old house had, like someone was trying to suffocate him or poison his pack. It was warm and soft and classily decorated by Erica and Isaac, and every structure was  _gorgeous_. From the grand foyer, there was a grand staircase that split in the middle—very _Beauty and the Beast-_ esque, but not ironically—leading to a balcony where Stiles guessed the bedrooms were. Behind the majestic structure that was the staircase, on the other side of the balcony, Stiles could see what looked like a living room: a nice, tufted sofa with  _lots_ of throw pillows, a loveseat with slightly fewer pillows, and at least two nice armchairs.

And everything was decorated in nice, natural colors, all neutrals and forest greens. 

"I—I can't even... _Wow._ "

And when Stiles turned around, wanting to gush over the  _everything_ , Derek was on one knee, holding a velvet box up to Stiles.

"It's been a very rough few years for us, I know, and we didn't exactly meet each other normally, either. But throughout it all, even when I didn't acknowledge it, you were there for all of us. At first, I only thought of you as Scott's tag-along human, a sidekick to my new beta. But then, when every terrible thing hit Beacon Hills, when all of you scattered for college, and finally, right now, when we're reunited as a pack again, you've continually supported all of us. You've been here even though you didn't have to be, sometimes when it was fatally dangerous for you and your father, but you still stayed. I would blame my dismissive behavior toward you on Jennifer Blake, but that wouldn't account for all the times you saved my life even before the whole ordeal."

A very hard swallow, a nice pause to let everything sink in.

"And when we were courting, we did everything wrong. We became parents to a pack of college-student werewolves. We slept together and got to know each other in the same night, and then we broke up and stayed that way for two years while I was brainwashed by another spark."

A soft, nervous laugh.

"And then, before we were even together, we unofficially adopted a baby werewolf together. And our whole courtship was...the farthest thing from a conventional courtship, given that we did  _everything_ out of order."

Was that Stiles's heartbeat, or Derek's? Wow, this was the longest he'd ever heard Derek talk, outside of that night they spent together two years ago. It was exciting.

"So, finally, in these last stages of our courtship, will you be my mate? Will you participate in a mating ceremony with me?"

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, this is it, this is finally happening. Say yes! SAY YES!!!!_

"Yes! Oh my god, dude, yes!!! Forever, yes!"

And Derek was picking him up off the ground, spinning them both around in the huge foyer of their new home, as their friends from the balcony (Where did they come from? Had they been there for the whole speech?) clapped and cheered for them. At one point, one of the betas threw confetti on top of them before they all ran down the stairs into one huge pack cuddle session.

"Welcome home, Stiles. Mate."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, planning for the mating ceremony, a conclusion for Petopher, and more Tony!! We're almost done!
> 
> Please feel free to point out any grammatical/continuity errors, as this work is unbeta-ed!! Thanks a bunch~~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House tour! Another complication!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! I can't believe that this has 600+ kudos~~
> 
> If you have any recommendations for tags or grammar, feel free to comment! A couple of OCs, but I swear they won't be in your way for long. (I suck at making OC backgrounds and characterizations. Tony's characterization was challenging enough for me, and he's only a toddler!). XD
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

Sure, the house was perfect, Stiles thought, but honestly? His pack had built it. They'd built it with him in mind, and that was the greatest gift of all. 

At Erica's recommendation, Boyd had made sure to keep everything bright and open. There were big windows all around, carefully framed by curtains for privacy (as if the woods weren't enough!) starting from the foyer. It was cozy and inviting, not at all like the shell of the burnt down Hale house.

Walking through, Stiles could already see where everyone would fit in when he stepped into the living room. Isaac had obviously picked the curtains and the rugs, and he beamed proudly when Stiles complimented them. Stiles elbowed him jokingly, to which Isaac responded by grinning even more widely.

"I know you like the darkish-seafoam-green sort of vibe, and Derek's default color's always been gray, so I tried to make them pop out a little more. And, and the beige and ivory and weird  _coral_ colors were Erica's idea! And the fake flowers, and the, the—. That's why it looks so, so—" Isaac tried to explain, tripping over his words in his excitement.

"Oh my god, Isaac, it's not  _coral_ , it's  _peach_ , and it's a nice complement to the seafoam," Erica sighed, exasperated but fond.

"I love it," Stiles replied, ignoring Erica and patting Isaac on the shoulder. "Thanks, buddy."

"Well, if we'd  _just_ stuck to green and gray, then everything would be dark! It would've been so _drab,_ " Erica protested.

"Yeah, I know, I know. You chose well," Stiles tried to appease her. He succeeded.

"Of course I did. I know my colors; that's what you do with an _interior design major_ , god, seriously. You guys would've gone with really boring colors, and Tony would've hated you," Erica replied.

"Oh really?" Derek chimed in.

"Yeah, totally, I'm pretty sure his favorite color is either pink or light orange. He always chooses those blocks over the green and blue ones," Erica retorted.

"Huh, that's true," Stiles conceded. Honestly, he'd noticed on several occasions, but he didn't really think that was enough to make those colors his  _favorite_ colors. He'd have to take Tony out more often, maybe to Toys R Us or something.

"I built in some shelves for you, throughout the house. For your stuff at your apartment. Books and stuff," Boyd finally commented.

"Oh, thanks, man! Really appreciate it!" Stiles replied. He didn't really think Boyd would know about his huge pile of books back at the apartment, but, well, Boyd always managed to surprise him.

Taking another step into the house, Stiles took another minute to soak everything in. This was really happening. His pack was finally on his side again, and his mate was  _by_ his side, and everything was perfect. Just two months ago, this had seemed impossible, and yet—

"Dude, are you crying?!" Scott exclaimed.

Erica elbowed his side roughly.

"Psh, me? Crying? I just, everything's just," Stiles clamped his mouth shut before the pack could hear the tremor in his voice.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. We're sorry for springing this all on you tonight. I know we've neglected you for so long, and especially with the whole... _Blake_ situation, it just seems like everything's moving too fast. Just, consider this den as our apology? Please?" Derek spoke, leaning close to Stiles's ear.

"I-I'm not gonna make you guys apologize for that  _forever_. I know what happened, and I know that none of you were "all there." It'll be stupid if I just cling onto this one little thing and make you guys grovel for the rest of our lives, so. Apology accepted. And thanks. To all of you. For, you know, this, and Tony, and just—" Stiles broke off again as a fresh wave of tears came over him.

"Aw, Stiles!" Scott (or Isaac?) said, and suddenly he was engulfed in a huge group cuddle.

“Oh, but we haven’t even shown you the best part yet! The master suite!” Erica abruptly declared, pulling herself from the group and dragging Stiles (and, by extension, Derek) along with her up the stairs and to the right. 

“Ta-da! My masterpiece!” Erica sang happily as they stopped before a closed door. Derek shot her a look from the corner of his eyes, and she sighed, “And with Derek’s help. Happy?”

Turning to Stiles, Derek’s grip on his waist tightened as he opened the door. “I think you’ll like it enough.”

And Stiles completely zoned out after that, because _wow_. This was everything he could’ve ever _dreamed_ of, with the beautiful, king-sized bed, and the shelves for his books and recipes, and the little sitting area where he and Derek could sit and talk about their day. It was _perfect_. And there was even a little play area for Tony, and a little mini-fridge that was so conveniently placed, and—

The more he saw, the more he fell in love with the house, with Derek, with their pack.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he finally managed to utter.

“Not a problem. I’ll show the kitchen tomorrow,” Derek winked at him.

 

~

 

Despite the new house, though, Stiles still spent the majority of his time at the apartment, especially when he was coming home from work. Especially when he had a shift at the hospital  _and_ a shift at the clinic in the same day, as was the case for this evening.

Tony was at the Hale house, finally settled in his cute little nursery and charming the pants off everyone he saw. Peter texted him updates throughout the day, but now Stiles was so tired that he was just gonna go to bed without his usual check-in with the pack. Just as he was getting out of the shower, though, he heard a knock on the front door (or was it just his imagination?) and something—some _one_ —had just poked at his runes. Great. Just what he needed.

Quickly throwing on some clean clothes, Stiles rushed to open the door and was greeted by a strange couple: a blonde woman with sunglasses, wearing a tight red dress, and a man who looked...wait, that was the waiter! From the fancy restaurant!

"Stiles, m'dear. It's nice to see you up close," the lady spoke. And that was weird, because it was dark outside now, and he had no idea how she could see him with her sunglasses still on.

"Um? Have we met?" Stiles spoke, looking from the lady to the waiter guy.

"Not directly. At the clinic, at the restaurant, something like that. But enough about that. Aren't you gonna invite us in?" the waiter guy interjected.

"No? I don't know who you are, I don't know what you want. I'm not gonna open my door to  _strangers_ ," Stiles snarked back. Their presence was putting him on edge, and he couldn't sense any of his defensive runes anymore.

As he was about to slam the door shut in their faces and get ready for the offensive, the lady stuck her foot out and blocked the door, pushing it back open and leaning in closer to Stiles.

"Oh, but we're not strangers. You've heard of us. Alice and Andrew Kingsley. Of the Kingsley-Monroe pack? We're here about a couple of missing members, and a rather rambunctious beta of your pack. I'm  _sure_ you could help us out."

Fuck.

 

~

 

"Peter Hale. He always was a problematic, even when we were little, you know. But to think, helping a hunter murder out the last remnants of another pack? Even when he knew  _exactly_ what it felt like for the survivors? Well, someone should take care of him, don't you think?" the waiter—whose name was Andrew, apparently, stated conversationally.

"Well, Chris has been on our side for a long time. And from what I can recall, the Monroe abducted and tortured Peter first. He's not exactly the problem in this situation."

"The Monroe pack had every reason to distrust him," Alice—the spark of the Kingsley pack—pointed out. "He smelled like Julia, and the last time they saw her, she'd decimated their trust."

"Peter was acting as an ambassador. He was sent by our Alpha to locate Tony's family, and he had nothing to do with their massacre," Stiles refuted. Okay, so maybe all of that wasn't true, but he had to present the pack as a united front to outsiders, right?

"Tony?"

"The baby. The baby that you left in the preserve to fend for himself. The one you  _abandoned_."

"Ah, yes, Oliver. The council had decided that since he couldn't bond with anyone from his new pack—our pack—maybe it would be best to let him go back to the closest thing he had to a family. And then the Hale pack took care of Julia, and it simply wasn't our place to say anything," Andrew answered. And Stiles was so offended, because how could anyone be so matter-of-fact about abandoning a little  _baby_?

"How can you say that?! Tony's just a baby! Have you ever considered that maybe your pack didn't treat him with enough care, and that's why he couldn't bond? If anyone had just taken a few  _hours_ to just play with him, just hold him—"

Andrew snorted.

"Oh, Stiles. We truly were impressed with how you handled Julia. Everyone, the whole council, was so impressed that you could end such a conflict with next to no collateral damage," Alice cooed.

"We're in the big leagues. We didn't have  _time_ to spend on a little orphan pup from a little pack with a nasty rogue spark. Considering how pragmatic we've been told you were, we were expecting you to at least understand  _that_ ," Andrew interjected.

Stiles was taken aback.

Other packs actually knew about him? The major packs? He'd expected them to contact Scott, or even Peter, but him?

"Besides, that's not why we're here," Alice soothed, bringing them back on track.

"Oh, so the missing members of your pack?" Stiles questioned.

"Well, we could talk about them. Or we could talk about our offer to you."

"Offer?"

"Yes. You see, Stiles, with the Monroe pack withering away even after we've taken them in, and with us having to give up Oliver, it would be really nice to...repopulate. We don't need just wolves. And with a smaller pack, well, I don't want to get too much into the politics of it, but we're in a bad way. One of the major protectors of the minor packs, and we've started showing weaknesses because of one little rogue spark. Wouldn't it be nice if...well," Alice trailed off.

"We want you in our pack. With the Monroe pack dying off, we're losing strength, and our defenses for our dependent packs are starting to dwindle, and there's the problem of political unrest. If we could get Oliver back, and if we could have you by our side, it would be beneficial to all the packs on the east coast. It would be for the greater good," Andrew explained, not bothering to sugarcoat anything.

Alice pursed her lips, as if annoyed by how direct he was being.

"You—you want me to be a part of your pack?" Stiles finally managed.

"That's our endgame, yes," Andrew answered before Alice could even open her mouth. "The council is already uneasy with the conflicts on the west coast from the Hale fire, and now with the werewolf population declining in another major pack, we need new meat. A fresh voice and a younger mindset."

"But don't think you have to decide now. We'll be in town for the next few weeks, on business. Here, take my card," Alice said tactfully, and they both stood up. "I think we've given you enough to think about, and I can see that you're exhausted for work."

Stiles nodded, not trusting himself to come up with a coherent response.

"Good night, Stiles. And remember: it's for the greater good."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/captainpinkoreosao3/), but there's not much on there at the moment! I'll start posting news about updates and ideas for new works, since this one's almost wrapping up! 
> 
> Also, it might seem confusing now, but I swear it'll be explained in the next few chapters!


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